


Daddy Issues

by BelladonnaWyck, raiast



Series: Family Matters [2]
Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Body Worship, Consensual Kink, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Facials, First Time, Gentle Sex, Incest, Kissing, Lecter Twins, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Of the auditory variety, Oral Sex, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shaving Kink, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Threesomes, Will is 19, slight come-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: Hannibal should expect something obscene to come from Nigel’s mouth - the look that flashes in his eyes is enough of a warning - but he certainly doesn’t expect what falls from his filthy lips next.“Tell me, brother. Do you still fuck your son?”
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter/Nigel (Charlie Countryman), Will Graham/Nigel (Charlie Countryman)
Series: Family Matters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665787
Comments: 69
Kudos: 366
Collections: Hannigram Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonnimir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnimir/gifts).



> We again want to thank jonnimir for such a luscious prompt in the Kinkmeme! We hope you enjoy this second 'alternate universe' of this trio! Subscribe for future updates! We have five planned and partially written so far and are also taking prompts in the comments!
> 
> Each story will reflect an aspect of its twin from the Gods & Monsters verse but this is a separate storyline where Will is 19, away at college, and he and Hannibal have been fucking for around a year before Nigel shows up!

"You are in  _ my _ home, Nigel. If you wish to return to your slovenly ways you are more than welcome to return to your  _ own _ apartment." Hannibal dries the dish in his hand and puts it away, eyes narrowing at the distinct  _ snick _ of a lighter and then the scent of cheap tobacco and nicotine on the air; Nigel’s refusal to smoke outside rankles him more than it perhaps typically would due to Hannibal’s mood. He’s feeling an unpleasant, unfamiliar - though not unwarranted - stab of anxiousness, and he simply hasn’t the patience for Nigel’s antics.   
  
Will’s first year at university is finally at an end, the boy set to return to Hannibal that evening after four months apart. His son had wanted the  _ full college experience,  _ which apparently meant he would stay on campus and not come home, even for the shorter breaks. Hannibal spent Christmas in Amherst at Will’s insistence not to return home until the Summer. 

Hannibal should expect something obscene to come from Nigel’s mouth - the look that flashes in his eyes is enough of a warning - but he certainly doesn’t expect what falls from his filthy lips next.

“Tell me, brother. Do you still fuck your son, or has it lost some of the appeal now that he’s legal?” Nigel’s only been in Hannibal’s home for a few days, and has already reached the end of Hannibal’s nearly limitless patience. The clear attempt at diverting them from the  _ actual _ conversation at hand would be easily dismissable if Hannibal wasn’t uncharacteristically taken aback by the accusation; if it wasn’t  _ true.  _

He knows his silence says far more than any attempt at some stuttered out denial, sees the mischief in Nigel’s eyes flare brighter as though he’s just fed another log into the fire and knows instinctively that there’s no reason to attempt twisting what Nigel thinks he knows into something innocent. He’s already been caught. 

He doesn’t bother asking how Nigel figured it out, but Nigel tells him anyway. “Hanni, you literally kiss on the lips. He’s  _ nineteen.  _ What nineteen-year-old kid kisses his old man on the mouth? He still  _ sits in your lap _ and calls you _ daddy.  _ I know we had fucked up childhoods, so maybe I don’t know what normal looks like, but I know it sure as shit ain’t  _ that _ .” 

Nigel, having freshly arrived in America with a multitude of men who had other ideas as to the state of his continued well-being snapping at his heels, had tagged along with Hannibal to Massachusetts to join him on his visit to see Will for the previous Christmas. It was the first time his inferior half had met his nephew, and it was possible the two of them, nearly  _ aching _ with desire after so many months apart, might not have set the best first impression.

When they’d returned to Baltimore after the holiday, Nigel had been quick to line up lodgings of his own and, despite the two of them existing in the same city, he’d seen relatively little of his twin until Nigel’s adversaries had inevitably sussed out his location. Nigel had abandoned his apartment and materialized upon Hannibal’s doorstep for the second time in six months, and now stood in Hannibal’s kitchen, stubbornly smoking one of his filthy cigarettes indoors and testing the limits of Hannibal’s resolve.

“Will and I are in a consensual relationship between two adults. Nothing happened between us until he was of age, Nigel. It’s  _ hardly _ as illicit and tawdry as you are making it sound.” Hannibal smooths down the perfectly unwrinkled front of his dress shirt, presses his lips into a thin line when Nigel laughs at his response, his eyes narrowing as his brother snuffs his cigarette out on the stainless steel countertop in front of him. 

“An  _ incestuous _ relationship between a father and son isn’t  _ illicit _ , huh? As long as it’s  _ consensual.  _ Well damn, thanks for telling me about  _ that _ little legal loophole.” Nigel is teasing him, and Hannibal is unsure how to respond for the first time in his life. “Don’t know why the fuck I’m surprised,” Nigel continues, slinking around the island that separates them not unlike a large cat. “You  _ always _ got it up for your brother, after all. Didn’t you?”

Hannibal hums in reply, a sound neither of agreement or denial. A memory, clear even through the veil of a lifetime of distance, emerges in Hannibal’s mind; Nigel on his back while Hannibal straddles his face backward, their bodies pressed together as they consume one another. A series of flashes behind his eyes, various positions, and proclivities - both of them always fond of experimenting with their  _ curiosity.  _

“I’ve never heard you so quiet, baby brother.” Older than Hannibal by mere minutes only, not that Nigel would ever let him forget it. “I’m not judging. Your boy is gorgeous, isn’t he? Must take after that missing mother of his.” Nigel is more than aware Hannibal’s ex-wife isn’t  _ missing,  _ knows perfectly well her remains were used to nourish himself and his son for several weeks when the boy was much younger, not yet attached enough to truly miss her. 

One thing Hannibal and Nigel agree on is their possessive obsession. Where Will is concerned, at least, Hannibal lost all sense of reason or logic. He knew, from the moment he first held the boy against his chest as a newborn, only minutes old, that Will was  _ his.  _ Always would be.

Nigel, it seems, isn’t finished. “What was it like, the first time? Sliding into a hot, tight little body like that? He’s all curves, that boy. Bet he cried for you, didn’t he? All pitiful whimpers and crocodile tears. Or is he a little slut like you were? Choking you down even as he gags around your thick cock. Does he beg you to fill him up? To come inside him? He came from you, originally, after all; it’s only fair.” 

“Must you be so vulgar, Nigel?” Hannibal scolds, turns away from Nigel to check the clock on the stove, though he is perfectly aware of the time already, and that Will is expected soon.

Turning his back is a mistake with another worthy predator in the room. 

He and Nigel are cut from the same cloth, both of their monsters discovered together. Hannibal isn’t aware Nigel has moved until he feels warm, broad palms first wrap around his hips and then wander dangerously close to his cock where it rests, half-hard already, beneath his dress slacks. 

Nigel presses his body against the line of Hannibal’s back, dipping his face forward to nuzzle his cheek against Hannibal’s own. “You love me this way, brother. Always have. And I bet you love your own boy just the same way, don’t you?” One of his hands slides boldly forward, fingers skimming along the line of Hannibal’s trousers for only a moment before they pop open his fly and delve confidently within.

Hannibal hisses as Nigel’s broad palm encompasses him, his traitorous body arching into the touch, even as he grits out a blatant contradiction to his own cock’s interest. “I’ve never been particularly compelled by the uncouth manner in which you present yourself.”

A shiver runs through him as Nigel’s sharp teeth scrape threateningly down the column of his neck, his hand cupping Hannibal’s cock - growing firmer by the moment - with a harsh grip. “Feel pretty  _ compelled _ to me, darling.”

They both freeze at the sound of the front door opening and closing, the distinctive sound of luggage being dropped to the parquet floor of the foyer. Hannibal instinctively tries to insert space between them, but Nigel tightens his hold around him, a chiding  _ tsk _ sounding in his ear.

“I’m quite comfortable like this,” he explains, gives Hannibal’s now aching cock a slight squeeze. “You seem to be as well.” Nigel shifts himself, twists their bodies until they’re both facing the entrance to the kitchen that Will shall no doubt arrive from in only a matter of moments.

And he does, an obvious greeting on his lips that falters the moment the sight of the two of them greets  _ him. _ His striking blue eyes scan the scene before him, wide with shock as they dart between the faces of the two brothers, to the closeness of their bodies, to the place where Nigel’s hand is, quite literally, buried in Hannibal’s trousers.

“ _ Will,” _ Nigel purrs, and Hannibal can feel his brother’s smirk where it’s half-pressed against his throat. “We were  _ just _ talking about you, love.”

Will’s Adam’s apple bobs spastically as he swallows, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyebrows furrow in confusion and suspicion. “I -”

“My poor brother has missed you something  _ fierce _ since you’ve been away, darling. Why don’t you come say hello to your daddy, hm?”

Will’s frantic eyes meet Hannibal’s then, and he gives his son a small nod of assurance, forces himself to relax in Nigel’s grip to put the boy at ease. Will approaches them slowly, as though worried he may startle them if he advances too quickly. All the while his eyes dart from Hannibal to Nigel.

Hannibal reaches out to the boy when he draws close enough, stroking a reassuring hand along his jawline. Will closes the distance between them with hesitance, chastely pressing his lips to Hannibal’s and murmuring a soft, shy, “Hi, daddy.”

Nigel, never one to let anything lie, hooks his chin over Hannibal’s shoulder and gives an unimpressed huff. “Is that any way to greet the man whose life has been so  _ hard _ without you?” Nigel goads, giving Hannibal’s cock another vicious squeeze. “Try again,” he suggests.

Will gazes up at him once more, eyes earnest with confusion and hesitation even as arousal begins to darken them. Hannibal gives him another slight nod and Will presses forward with more confidence, meeting Hannibal’s lips with his own parted this time, his tongue coyly slipping out to meet Hannibal’s. His son grows bolder the longer they’re in contact, shifting his body closer and sighing as Hannibal deepens their kiss.

“ _ Very _ good,” Nigel purrs when they part, idly stroking Hannibal’s cock within the confines of his pants. “Just look at that pretty blush. Now, why don’t you come show your uncle some of the love you give your daddy, hm? After all, we’re  _ twins _ . So we all know you’re  _ more _ than familiar with this cock, aren’t you?” Nigel palms himself vulgarly through his pants with his free hand, knuckles grazing against Hannibal’s back.

“It’s alright,” Hannibal assures his son softly as Will peers up at him, eyelashes fluttering against his blazing cheeks. “If you want to,” he amends, even as the possessive beast within him snarls at the concept of Will being touched by  _ anyone _ other than him.

“Oh, he fuckin’ wants to,” Nigel confirms in a low purr, nuzzling his cheek against Hannibal’s in a distinctive act of dominance. “Just look at him; eyes blown and cheeks red, practically  _ panting _ for it already. Aren’t you, gorgeous?” He directs the last question at Will, and the weight of his attention sends a shiver spilling through his boy’s lean frame.

Will shifts his stance, sidling closer to the men until he can dip his face to where Nigel’s is pressed against Hannibal’s neck. “Haven’t seen  _ you _ in a while either,” Will observes, one bold hand brushing firmly over Hannibal’s pants where Nigel’s hand still resides. “Did  _ you _ miss me too?”

“In retrospect, I’m missing you a helluva lot more, darling. Why don’t you get on your knees for me, pretty thing? Show Uncle Nigel what he’s been missing from that sweet mouth.” Hannibal watches as Nigel encourages Will with a firm hand to his shoulder, the boy collapsing under the weight of his touch and falling to the ground before both men. Will’s eyes dart from Hannibal to Nigel and back again, skittish and still tentative. 

Hannibal gives him a nearly imperceptible nod of encouragement. 

“Like this, Uncle Nigel?” Will smiles sweetly up at Nigel like he has a mouth full of sugar water. Nigel groans, his cock throbbing against Hannibal’s back at the pure, beautiful vision of a pretty boy on his knees for them.  _ Hannibal’s boy. _

“This what you did for your daddy back at Christmas?” Nigel shoots Will a feral grin, and Hannibal sees the gleam of his teeth from the corner of his eye as Will’s eyes flash to his, a concerned little frown pulling his lips down. “Did you think you were quiet, love?” Nigel laughs, and Hannibal squeezes his wrist in an iron, vice grip. 

Will recovers quickly enough, lips forming into a little smirk of his own. “We don’t have secrets in this family. Isn’t that right,  _ Ripper?” _ Will looks directly into Nigel’s eyes even as he addresses Hannibal. 

Nigel doesn’t seem fazed that Will knows. “No secrets? Is that what you call sneaking away to get railed by your daddy in a hotel bathroom after you thought I’d passed out?” 

“Nigel,” Hannibal warns, voice low. 

Nigel chuckles good-naturedly and his hand resumes its steady drag on Hannibal’s cock. Will shuffles forward on his knees, mouths at Hannibal’s erection where it tents the fabric of his dress slacks, his lips obscenely wet and shining already. 

Hannibal tilts his hips so that his cock slides against Will’s lips through his pants, but Nigel pulls him back with the hand still on his cock, shuffling him out of the way and pressing him against the countertop beside him so that they stand hip to hip.

“Sharing is caring and all that, brother. I want to sample your boy,” Nigel remarks, his hand still in Hannibal’s pants moving languidly. “And I think  _ he _ wants a taste of  _ me. _ Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Will doesn’t respond to the inquiry verbally, merely shuffles on his knees until he’s sat right before Nigel and raises his hands to work at the man’s fly. 

Hannibal gazes at his boy, soft cheeks flushed with an endearing mixture of embarrassment and excitement, eyes darkening with his growing arousal like the ocean just before a storm. His full lips are parted in anticipation for what’s to come, his breath coming out in sweet little pants, and Hannibal  _ aches _ to taste him again. 

When Will pulls Nigel’s cock, already rock hard and leaking copiously, from the confines of his jeans, the twins both echo the low moan that slips from the boy’s throat. Hannibal is overcome with another surge of outraged possessiveness as Will’s pink tongue slips out to lap at his brother’s wet cockhead, but forces himself to quell the instinct to tear Nigel to pieces, instead keeping still and silent. He watches his boy take Nigel’s cock into his mouth - eyes fluttering shut, obviously enjoying himself - and considers that perhaps it is not so terrible a concession to allow if it means that he is able to witness Will’s rapture from a third party perspective.

“ _ Well,” _ Nigel purrs, a pleased sound rumbling from him as he pushes a hand through Will’s curls. “Who knew my nephew had such a sweet, little mouth, hm? So warm and wet. You like having your mouth stretch around this thick cock, sweetheart?”

Will gives a soft hum at that, working his mouth further down Nigel’s shaft with increasing confidence. Hannibal’s eyes narrow as Nigel extracts his hand from the front of his pants, his other hand tightening in Will’s curls and pulling the boy off of him.

“I asked you a question, little slut,” Nigel hisses, and Hannibal finds himself bristling at the derogatory term hurled at his son. He takes a measured breath and reminds himself his brother is merely a wretchedly vulgar creature and doesn’t truly mean any offense by it. “ I expect an answer.”

Will gazes up at his uncle with wide, guileless eyes, his red, shining lips parted as he breathes out,  _ “Yes, Sir.” _

“That’s right,” Nigel agrees, seemingly appeased for the moment. 

Hannibal is far more surprised by the fact that he’s surprised at all when his brother turns violent, the hand not currently wrapped in Will’s curls whipping back seconds before Nigel’s large palm connects with the boy’s cheek. The impact is harsh enough that the sharp  _ crack  _ of the contact nearly drowns out the soft sound of Will’s surprised gasp. 

Hannibal is in movement before he even considers his next step; in the span of a breath he has Nigel’s wrist seized and twisted harshly behind his brother’s back. The new position forces Nigel to release his hold on Will. When Nigel gives an indignant shout, Hannibal wrenches his arm higher and Nigel arches his back in an attempt to relieve some of the tension.

“You’re gonna break it, fucker!” His twin spits out.

Hannibal brushes his lips to Nigel’s ear, doesn’t have to exert any effort for his voice to spill out low and menacing. “And let you off so easily? I think not.” He wraps his free arm around Nigel’s chest, settling his hand loosely at the base of his brother’s throat. “Harm my son again and I’ll be  _ removing  _ the offending body part.”

Nigel makes a strangled sound of agreement and Hannibal releases him with a shove, sending him bodily to the floor. He skirts around his twin with measured steps, closing the distance to where his boy still kneels, his eyes darting between the two brothers with a mixture of concern and arousal.

“Will is not one of your Romanian whores to do with as you please,” he informs Nigel, his gaze locked on his son’s cheek, flushed with vivid color from the impact. “He is a singular, extraordinary entity. And he is  _ mine.” _ He reaches out to his boy, cupping his jaw gently with a pleased smile when Will’s eyes flutter closed and he presses into the contact. He tilts Will’s head this way and that to inspect the damage. “Alright,  _ mylimasis?” _

“Yes, daddy,” Will answers meekly, tone soft and voice rough. “I’m okay.”

Hannibal nods, bends down to place a chaste kiss to his son’s forehead before stroking tenderly through his curls once and then pulling away. “I believe my boy would be more comfortable if we adjourned upstairs, continued this in a bedroom.”

He’s pleased when Nigel reaches out to assist Will in standing, more so when he mutters out a gruff apology to the boy. Will just smiles softly, reaches a hand out to each of them, and then leads the way upstairs.

Hannibal is surprised when Will leads them not into the master, but into his own childhood bedroom, still filled with the vestiges of his youth. Hannibal would come in here some nights, right after Will had first left for college, just so he could capture a moment of Will’s scent, faint but still so wholly Will that, even now when his son stands before him, it causes Hannibal’s heart to clench. 

Nigel releases his hold on Will’s hand in order to explore his slender body over his clothes, so much smaller than either of the men who desire him so strongly, so easily breakable. Something protective stirs in Hannibal’s stomach, a low growl in his throat as he watches Nigel look and touch his fill - albeit gentler than moments ago.

“Can’t say I blame your daddy for wanting you so badly; you’re such a pretty boy, baby.” Nigel’s hands glide over slim hips - slimmer, even, than Hannibal would like - Will clearly isn’t eating enough on campus - and across Will’s chest and neck before finally settling a broad palm against his cheek. He rubs his thumb across Will’s blood-soaked cheekbone almost apologetically, the skin beneath his blush a sun-kissed tan due to his son’s penchant for studying outside, and then dips his head to brush his lips over the reddened spot as well. 

“Perhaps you should show him your appreciation, Nigel,” Hannibal suggests, an image forming in his mind of how this could all play out for them. He wants to  _ worship  _ his son, all lovely curls and flushed cheeks, his pleasure something Hannibal can already taste on the air around them. 

Nigel’s grin is full of teeth, enough to cause Hannibal’s stomach to clench in anticipation as memories of their past together flood his thoughts. He can recall, with perfect clarity, exactly how those lips feel wrapped around his cock, how Nigel was more than willing to enjoy Hannibal’s body, so similar to his own, when they were younger and exploring all of the ways they could find pleasure. 

The other man falls to his knees to mouth filthily at the front of Will’s skinny jeans where they are tented obscenely, Will’s cock so wet at the tip that it bleeds through the fabric. Hannibal’s mouth waters at the reminder of how glorious his boy tastes; like cloves and sugar. He wants to taste him straight from the source. 

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, sweet boy. They must be terribly uncomfortable.” Hannibal smiles when Will’s eyes move to his, both reassuring and full of hunger. 

Will nods quietly, doesn’t move as Hannibal lifts his shirt over his head, his curls catching in the static cling. Hannibal smooths them down with his palm, leans closer and captures Will’s plush bottom lip in a gentle kiss. 

He can hear Nigel, far less cautious below him, removing Will’s pants. Will steps out of them when they pool around his ankles, his boxers also caught in the tangle. 

In mere seconds Will stands before them fully nude, and Hannibal is finally able to trace his blush across the entirety of his exposed skin, watches as it spreads from his cheeks to his throat to his slender, nearly hairless chest. “My beautiful boy,” Hannibal kisses him again, captures the gasp from his lips and runs his hand along Will’s pebbled nipples, his nail scraping softly over the nub. 

Nigel catches Hannibal’s gaze and the brothers share a silent conversation as only twins can, which results in Nigel shuffling around to Will’s back, taking playful nips of the taut skin of his abdomen, his hips, and his lower back as he goes. 

Will is  _ so good,  _ his body totally still even as he so clearly thrums with restless energy. Hannibal wants him desperately, so he steps forward again, licking into Will’s mouth softly but insistently.    
_ “Daddy,”  _ Will moans when Hannibal steps away; the sound is beautiful, laced with pure, raw need. 

“Shh, darling. Let us take care of you,” Hannibal promises, gliding to his knees in a graceful drop, the soft susurrous of his pants nearly deafening in the silence. 

Nigel is uncharacteristically quiet from his place behind Will, drawing Hannibal’s attention to him. He looks around the soft swell of Will’s slender hip and sees Nigel staring, seemingly transfixed, at the dimples at the bottom of Will’s spine, his fingers rising to brush across the area with surprising gentleness. 

They have another silent conversation and then Hannibal is leaning forward to take Will into his mouth, no preamble or warning for his son. 

He can’t be sure if the sound wrenched from Will’s chest is due to the pleasure at his front, his back, or a combination of both, but he relishes in it all the same. Hannibal can hear the sounds of Nigel’s fevered passion, filthy and wet where he has Will spread open, licks into him like a starving man. Hannibal can understand the sentiment, has missed Will, perhaps, more than he’d even been willing to admit to himself. 

He works Will’s cock with a single-minded focus, taking his length all the way to the back of his throat and clenching purposefully around his shaft, letting Will feel the way his muscles move around him. His boy is so sweet, and Hannibal drinks the taste of him down like a man presented with water after a decade in the desert. With his face so close to Will’s groin, Hannibal’s nose is saturated with the scent of his son; heady and spiced with arousal, the sweetness of his blood rushing through his veins, thickening the cock in Hannibal’s mouth until it’s almost impossibly hard.

Above them, Will gasps and moans and whines, a fine tremor shivering constantly through his body until finally, with Hannibal swallowing him down on one end and Nigel giving him a loud, sloppy suck on the other, the boy’s knees buckle and then finally give out. His hands fly forward to Hannibal’s shoulders for support, and immediately both brothers each have one arm stretched up to stabilize the sweet boy between them.

They continue just like that, Will shivering between them as they work him over. Hannibal pulls off Will’s cock for a moment, curious to see what has pulled a desperate sob from his throat and wet his eyelashes with unshed tears of pleasure. 

Nigel has one broad palm spreading Will’s cheeks apart as he laps at him nearly viciously, his tongue curled and pointed so that it slips inside Will’s body before it’s pushed back out by his clenching muscles. His brother spends several seconds spreading the saliva dripping from his mouth around Will’s rim with his tongue before Hannibal sees the reason for Will’s earlier cry. Nigel slides a finger into Will’s drenched, spasming hole, Will’s body seizing at the intrusion. 

It isn’t long before Nigel slides another finger in alongside the first, leaning close to lick around where they disappear into Will’s pliant hole, his muscles going lax from the continued pleasure. Hannibal takes that opportunity to swallow him down again, all the way to the root, using his tongue to tease at the head and all the way down his shaft, foreskin pulled back to expose his leaking head so that it can drip onto Hannibal’s waiting tongue. 

Will’s knees falter again and he  _ keens  _ when the movement just impales him further onto his uncle’s fingers and tongue and slides him deeper into Hannibal’s throat. 

Hannibal lets Will remain buried in his throat for several seconds before he pulls away and peers up at his son, glorious and euphoric in his pleasure, although somewhat overwhelmed and bewildered in equal measure. “Perhaps we should move this to the bed,” he suggests softly.

Nigel, always one to contradict, speaks up even as his lips are busy trailing over the soft swell of Will’s ass. “I like him shaking apart for us.”

“He can shake apart for us on the bed and not pitch over in the process. Go on, beautiful boy,” Hannibal encourages him, and Will nods and steps on shaking legs over to his bed, climbing across it until he can splay himself out in the middle of the mattress.

His bed is smaller than the king that Hannibal keeps in his own bedroom, a double that Will never saw fit to upgrade, knowing he was only going to be leaving it behind when he went off to college. In any other situation, Hannibal might consider the space cramped as he and his brother move to settle themselves on the bed alongside his -  _ their _ \- boy, but in this moment the only word that materializes in his mind is  _ intimate. _

They both consider the boy between them, his heaving chest and sweat-glistened skin, and then glance up to each other and simultaneously begin to strip out of their own clothes. “How do you wanna do this?” Nigel asks him, switching fluidly to the tongue of their childhood. “I’d like to try his mouth out some more.”

“You can have his mouth,” Hannibal agrees easily enough in Lithuanian, the implication obvious.  _ He’s mine. _ “Give him yours in return,” he nods down at Will, and Nigel’s gaze follows, tracking hungrily over the boy staring up at them with furrowed brows. He’d never taken learning Lithuanian as seriously as Hannibal might have liked, and is surely regretting it now; his eyes bounce between the twins, focusing on the shapes their mouths make as they speak and straining to glean any information he can from their body language.

He expects Nigel to protest, but his brother surprises him by nodding silently and turning his attention to Will. “Scoot down a bit, darling,” he instructs, and Will looks relieved to be hearing his mother tongue once again. “And turn on your side. Towards me, yes.”

Hannibal waits as Will and Nigel get settled together, his brother shifting his body until they are stretched out and facing each other with their heads at the other’s groin. He watches for a moment as Nigel lips along Will’s cock, still swollen, leaking and wet from Hannibal’s own mouth; watches Will’s face twist in agonized pleasure as Nigel swallows him down smoothly. The boy is static for a moment, simply basking in the pleasure of his uncle’s mouth, and then finally, as though remembering this is meant to be a joint effort, jolts back to himself and begins to care for his uncle in turn.

A shudder runs through Will’s body when Hannibal settles behind him, pressed so tightly against his back their skin may as well be fused together. He mouths wet, lazy kisses along Will’s shoulder, up his neck and jaw, ending with his lips at his son’s ear just as he reaches between them to drag a finger teasingly against his boy’s rim. He enjoys the sound of Will moaning around Nigel’s cock so much that he continues, pushes forward until his finger begins to sink inside slowly, urges another moan forth when he swirls the tip of his finger inside him.

“You’re so wet and open, darling boy,” he murmurs into the curls already matted with sweat by Will’s ear. “Your uncle made you so loose, didn’t he? Do you suppose I’ll be able to slide right inside of you?”

“Daddy,  _ please _ ,” Will pulls away, Nigel’s cock falling from his lips as he whimpers, and Hannibal’s heart speeds at the sound, his darling Will is the only creature alive that can cause his pulse to rise. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I know exactly what you need.” Hannibal soothes him, lifting his leg just enough that he can slip his own closer, his cock teasing over Will’s hole several seconds before he lines himself up properly and starts sliding in. 

Will’s little gasp of surprise at the intrusion brings a smile to Hannibal’s lips, compels him to lean forward and press soft, teasing kisses to the back of Will’s neck where the skin is flushed beneath his hair, his entire body virgin-blushed even though he is far from inexperienced. 

“That’s right, darling, just let me fill you up.” Hannibal encourages, starting up a slow pace once he’s fully settled inside his boy. 

“So big, fills me up so well,” Will sighs on a breathy moan.

Hannibal shushes him, presses another kiss to the sensitive spot just below Will’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on your uncle, darling boy?” Will nods and takes Nigel’s cock into his mouth again, and Hannibal sounds out an approving hum when his son and brother moan in tandem. “That’s right,” Hannibal encourages him. “Just like that. Feels so good, doesn’t it, darling?”

Hannibal knows precisely what Nigel is experiencing, the euphoria of Will’s mouth is like none other Hannibal has ever had. He’s still so sweet and shy when he uses his mouth on Hannibal, though no less eager for it. Soft and warm and made all the sweeter by his inexperience and how  _ hungry  _ he is for it, how desperately he tries to wring pleasure, how willingly he drinks down Hannibal’s release, like he’s starving for it. 

If Nigel’s groans and snarls of pleasure are any indication, it seems that his brother is enjoying it just as much. 

Will clenches around him at a particularly wet suck from Nigel, and Hannibal rolls his hips into him just a bit quicker, buries his nose against his boy’s neck and  _ breathes. _ “You smell  _ delectable _ like this, Will. Saturated in pleasure, so happy to have your family taking care of you. I would bottle this scent if I could, keep it with me always.”

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Nigel murmurs gruffly and then tilts his head to lap at Will’s sack. Will shudders and keens, his breaths coming faster and faster as both men work him toward his release. “C’mon, gorgeous, lemme taste you.”

Hannibal watches his brother’s actions, shifts slightly to adjust his angle just as Nigel swallows Will down, pressing in to nudge against the boy’s prostate with merciless precision again and again. The scent of Will’s arousal thickens noticeably, a constant flood of whimpers and moans pulled from his throat as every muscle of the boy’s body stiffens, growing more taut by the second like an over-tightened guitar string about to snap.

He does, finally, with one more wet suck from Nigel and one more thrust from Hannibal; their boy’s trembling increases until the poor thing is nearly  _ vibrating _ with pleasure and then goes completely still and rigid as his orgasm rips through him. It’s the first tipping in the chain of dominoes, Will clenching impossibly tight around Hannibal and nearly pulling him right over the edge with him; normally Hannibal would fall without reservation, but there is an eager, desperate part of him that longs to make this last as long as possible. 

He presses kisses into his son’s skin as he rolls his cock deep inside him, on the edge of a precipice of pleasure. Nigel swallows down his nephew’s release and then groans as he twitches his hips against the boy’s face a few more times and comes himself.

Hannibal knows Will must be oversensitive, that Hannibal’s cock must feel impossibly large inside of him as his body flutters and clenches around it, but he can’t stop himself from continuing anyway. He keeps his pace steady and slow, never ceases littering gentle kisses to Will’s exposed skin, even as his son whimpers and mewls pitifully against him, letting go of Nigel’s cock slightly too soon, his lips covered in pearlescent white. 

“You feel exquisite,  _ mylimasis _ .” Hannibal praises Will, ceasing his thrusting to instead remain buried deep and grinding slowly against Will’s plush cheeks. 

“Want it, daddy. Want you to fill me up, please, come inside me,” Will’s pleas are beautiful, unignorable, and Hannibal can no longer stop his orgasm from slamming through him with a nearly painful force. He spills his release into Will and remains there, pressed tightly together, relishes in the peaceful aftermath.

The three of them lie there for several minutes, basking in the recent release of serotonin and oxytocin, struggling to catch their breath and, in Hannibal’s case, gazing adoringly at Will, his slight body lax with pleasure, his cheeks flushed like overripe cherries and his chocolate curls plastered to his sweaty forehead. Eventually, Nigel rights himself on the bed so that all of them lie pressed together with their heads on the pillows.

He reaches out to stroke his thumb once across Will’s cheekbone and then gently guides the boy’s mouth to his own. Hannibal allows it now, satisfied that Nigel has proven his regard for Will adequately, his gruff nature and sharper edges dulled sufficiently enough for Hannibal’s approval. They share several slow, soft kisses, Nigel seemingly incensed at the taste of himself on Will’s plush lips, before finally parting, and then Will is quick to twist his body to face Hannibal, presses forward to meet his lips as well.

Hannibal is happy to claim his boy’s lips once more, though the taste of Nigel on his tongue is a bit jarring in its unfamiliarity after years without it. He drinks down Will’s whimpers as Nigel slides two fingers into their boy, his rim most probably still sensitive after their coupling, muttering something about keeping him filled up.

“I missed you, daddy,” Will breathes when their lips finally part and they tilt their foreheads together.

“You’re home now, sweet boy. And Nigel and I,” his gaze flickers to where the man in question has hooked a chin over Will’s shoulder. “We’re going to take care of you.”  
  



	2. Becoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Will Graham wakes on the morning of his eighteenth birthday with a sense of hope and determination; it is the sort of day, he knows, that will change the course of all those to come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part two of this verse but actually takes place _before_ the first chapter! This is Hannibal and Will's first time together on his 18th birthday!

Will Graham wakes on the morning of his eighteenth birthday with a sense of hope and determination; it is the sort of day, he knows, that will change the course of all those to come. He’s been taking every advantage of lazy mornings before his senior year begins, and so, when he wakes naturally to the warm summer sunlight creeping over his bed through the break in his curtains, his father has already long since left for his office - not without leaving breakfast warming in the oven, of course.

Will eats the protein scramble Hannibal left for him alone at the island counter, all the while picturing the effort his father put into the dish. He’d made the sausage himself - of that Will is certain - and a chill runs through him as the image of his father feeding flesh into the meat grinder floods his mind, his stomach twisting in a not altogether unpleasant way as he moves back further in time to when the butcher might have harvested his fare.

He wonders, idly, if he might convince his father to let him take part in such rituals - to  _ observe, _ at the very least - now that he is eighteen. He’s known now for years what his dad is -  _ really  _ is; it sits between them, an unspoken and unacknowledged truth, and Will has learned to eat the meals set before him without question, because the only ingredients within them that  _ really _ matter are his father’s love and devotion.

There’s another unspoken truth between them, though this one somehow much more tumultuous than the first. It burns and crackles like electricity at the oddest of times, and Will finds the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing on end frequently these days. He also finds himself waking in a compromised state more often than not, feeling alone and unfairly abandoned in his bed as he jerks himself to a hasty and - on the best of days - thoughtless release.

Hannibal always knows when Will starts the morning this way. His nostrils flare as soon as Will enters the kitchen, making Will flush automatically and causing his movements through the room to feel stilted and awkward as his father retreats into his person-suit and pretends that everything is normal between them.

What the fuck is  _ normal, _ anyway? Will’s never known normal a day in his life.

It was a relief the first time he overslept and missed his father altogether before he had to leave for the office, and Will was so overjoyed at the discovery that he made certain to shift the anomaly into a habit. By the time Hannibal returns in the evening the tension that might have been present between them in the morning seems to have dissolved at least somewhat, making dinner and the rest of the evening far more bearable.

But not tonight. Tonight, Will plans to take the reins on whatever it is that’s been simmering between him and his father for the better part of two years - starting with dinner.

He takes quick stock of the pantry and fridge, pleased to discover all of the ingredients he was hoping to have on hand - Hannibal’s penchant for food is a perk more often than not - as well as a freshly baked loaf of french bread. Will whips up his cheese mixture, sets some water to boil, and then throws some pork into a skillet to begin rendering.

He’s careful as he slices through the loaf of bread, movements slow and measured to ensure that he treats his father’s creation with the utmost respect it deserves. He can’t help but recall the first lesson  _ he’d _ had in breadmaking - four hands working one lump of sticky dough, flour pasted to counter, clothes and arms, and the solid line of Hannibal, impossibly warm against Will’s back, his hot breath spilling against Will’s neck and ear as he murmured instructions and encouragement.

Will had been  _ impossibly _ aroused the entire time, gut clenching with desire, cock throbbing in his jeans. He’d fled the kitchen as soon as the dough had been set to proof, making a beeline to his private bathroom and hastily jerking off with a fist between his clenched teeth. He’d pretended that nothing had been amiss when he’d returned to the kitchen, and if Hannibal had understood what had just occurred - as Will was positive he had - he’d never spoken a word about it.

His dad arrives home precisely when Will expects him, which is fortunate, as dinner is in its final stages. He makes a soft sound of dismay upon discovering Will slaving away in the kitchen, drifting closer to where Will stands at the stove as he takes in the scene before him.

“I’d have been happy to cook tonight, Will. It’s your birthday.” He flicks the oven light on and peers through the door. “Garlic toast.”

“I used your french bread; hope that’s okay,” Will admits as he hoists the pasta from the stove and begins pouring it out slowly into the colander sitting in their wide basin sink. As he watches the starchy water drain down, he imagines the murky white stained red instead, blood thick and metallic in the back of his throat, the smell nearly overwhelming as it pours over the sides of the sink and down onto the pristine floor. 

He blinks and it’s gone, nothing there but the smell of cooked pasta and garlic, the scent of cured meats. He knows, most likely, that the pork isn’t  _ pork,  _ and he’s unsure how to feel about his complacency in the products of murder. Does that make him the same as Hannibal? Another facet for them to grow closer in.

He’s pulled back to awareness by Hannibal’s soft voice permeating the fog of his mind, and he grunts a distracted “Hm?” as he lifts the pasta from the sink and empties it into the warm bowl he’d prepared.

Hannibal is at his side, helpfully handing him the cheese sauce Will had put together during his  _ mise en place. _ “I said I made it for  _ you,” _ his dad repeated softly, stepped to the side until he was standing just behind Will, peering over his shoulder as he tossed the pasta. “Carbonara,” Hannibal notes in a murmur, his breath spilling over Will’s neck; Will tenses against the shiver that threatens to roll down his spine, clenches his teeth and staunchly ignores the desire that twists in his gut. “It seems like only yesterday I was teaching you this recipe and now here you are, perfecting it on your own.”

Will’s cheeks flame at the praise, the warm desire in his belly snaking down to pool incessantly in his groin. He struggles to wet his dry mouth, swallowing around a hard knot in his throat, and the chime of the oven timer feels like a godsend as Will struggles with a response to his dad’s encouraging words. “Could you grab that out for me?” he requests, voice rough and cracking.

He’s glad that Hannibal’s distracted by the task so he can’t see the way Will’s hands tremble as he retrieves the meat from the stovetop and mixes it into the dish. “Salad is already on the table,” Will announces as he carefully plates a twist of pasta onto each of their plates as elegantly as possible - when it comes to plating, Hannibal possesses hands that hold decades of experience; Will always feels clumsy and unrefined by comparison.

Hannibal is right at his side again, adding two slices of the garlic bread to each serving. “I’ll retrieve the wine, then.”

“I pulled the  _ Domane Bergstrasse  _ Pinot fifteen minutes ago.” Will’s flush deepens under Hannibal’s gaze; pleasant surprise and pride. His eyes dart down to the small smirk that curls his father’s lips, swallowing down and burying deep the urge to step forward and press his own against them.

“Feeling extravagant this evening?”

The blush spreads to Will’s ears, too warm under Hannibal’s keen eye, even as his brows furrow. “It’s my birthday,” Will reminds him with a slight pout. If he wants a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine with dinner on his eighteenth birthday he thinks he’s earned the right to it.

Hannibal’s smile softens, Will’s skin buzzing electric as his dad reaches out and brushes a thumb over the swell of his cheek affectionately. “That it is.”

\---

Hannibal declares that the carbonara is absolutely perfect, that he couldn’t have done a better job even having prepared it himself, and the affection and pride in his gaze and tone gives Will difficulty swallowing his pasta around the lump that’s lodged in his throat. All throughout dinner, Will struggles to keep up with conversation while simultaneously mentally turning over the topic he knows he needs to broach with his father. If Hannibal notices that he’s distracted, he doesn’t bring it to attention.

They move to the study after dinner, Hannibal gesturing for Will to take a seat in one of the plush leather chairs by the fire while he retrieves a celebratory drink from his liquor cabinet. 

Internally, Will goes over - once more, hastily - all that he wishes to lay bare between them. He’s tired of all the subtext, wants everything out in the open. He trusts that his father loves him and doesn’t think he will hurt him. He realizes at a certain point that he might only ever continue to project the following conversation in his fantasies if he doesn’t actually speak up soon. So why not just go for it? 

“Why did you kill my mom?” Will asks, knows Hannibal understands exactly what he’s talking about. 

Hannibal, at least, doesn’t disrespect him with an attempt at a lie, only looks moderately surprised. That he’s managed to surprise his father brings him no small amount of joy. It’s a rarity that Hannibal Lecter is caught unaware. 

“You were  _ mine.”  _

Will nods his acceptance. The answer isn’t shocking, honestly; almost expected at this point. Will knows his father has feelings for Will, just like Will has for him. He was resentful when he’d finally pieced it all together a year ago, when he’d first connected all the dots that led to the revelation that his father was the Ripper. From that knowledge, all the other pieces seemed to fall together until the shroud that had always surrounded his childhood dissipated, and it became clear he’d most likely killed Will’s mother. 

Still, Will couldn’t be sure, hadn’t been, until just now. The resentment had faded long ago, Will’s developing romantic feelings towards his father enough to push them away when coupled with Hannibal’s obvious love of Will. He felt  _ safe,  _ practically worshipped by the other man. 

“You’re the Ripper.” His father truly looks surprised now, his ink-black pupils expanding and contracting like a jungle cat. “Figured that little piece out even before I realized you’d killed mom. Did you feed her to me too? Like you do the others?” 

Hannibal gives a silent nod of agreement, a small smirk playing on his lips as though he already knows he has Will’s acceptance.

He did. Will didn’t need to know more, it was enough to finally have it all out in the open, to know Hannibal  _ was aware  _ Will wasn’t in the dark. 

Now that they are both being honest with one another, Will asks the only question he really cares about. "Are we going to keep pretending there’s nothing between us now that we've laid everything else out on the table?"

“No, I suppose we aren’t,” Hannibal’s eyes have grown dark, dangerous, but Will isn’t afraid.

“Is that why you killed her? Did you know you wanted me, even back then?” 

"I always wanted you to be mine and mine alone. She was an inconvenience.”

“You didn’t love her, then?” Will asks; the question sounds too much like an accusation, so he tacks on, “Not enough, at least, to overlook her... _ inconvenience?” _

Hannibal hesitates slightly at the question, another anomaly, before slowly replying, “I had a fondness for her. But it was nothing compared to what I feel for you. What I felt even then. Only far more recently have I discovered all the areas my incessant possessiveness includes, and the extent of my feelings for you. How I  _ wanted _ you."

Will smiles, nods his agreement. Hannibal is still circling around an outright admission, but Will can lead them closer. "I knew I wanted you too. For a while now.” He pauses before continuing, quieter, and a little embarrassed. “I’ve never let anyone touch me."

Hannibal’s smile is broad enough to show teeth, lazy and predatory and so contented. "I know. I examined your scent each time you returned home from outings with your friends, couldn’t stop myself. A litany of odors clung to you, but never the arousal I had detected when I was teaching you to cook, or sketching you, or having breakfast with you early in the mornings when you were still freshly rumpled and lax from sleep."

Will laughs, standing to meet his father as he approaches with their drinks. Hannibal hands Will the tumbler of scotch with a brush of their fingertips. "Happy Birthday, Will."

"Thank you," Will takes an immediate sip. It warms him, just as his glass of wine with dinner had begun to. "I feel older," he observes out loud. "More responsible. Capable of making adult decisions."

Hannibal's smile broadens slightly. "How fortunate for you."

"Daddy." Will purrs, partly coy and partly exasperated after years of this dance.

Hannibal's eyes dart to Will at the word, in part, Will is sure, because Hannibal hasn't heard him use it in years.

Will takes another small sip and saunters closer. "I'm eighteen," he reminds his father softly. "Are we really gonna keep doing this dance after we’ve both admitted what’s between us?"

"...No." Hannibal's hand cups his jaw a breath later, tilts Will's head up to correct the difference in their height. 

There isn’t hesitance in the tension that soaks the air around them, but Will can see that his father won’t proceed without Will’s express consent. Will closes the remaining distance, presses their lips together with no additional preamble. He feels like he’s been waiting his entire life already and he won’t wait a moment longer. 

The soft noise of surprised pleasure just the simple pressure of Will’s mouth against his own seems to pull from Hannibal is enough to make Will’s throat feel thick with emotion. Will pulls away just long enough to abandon his tumbler to a nearby end table before it falls from his grasp completely, and then he’s back, pressing closer and raising his own hands up to fist the lapels of Hannibal’s jacket, using them to erase the remaining space between them once more.

The second kiss is heated, but just as controlled as the first. Will can feel the desperate urgency his father keeps a tight rein on, and longs to tell the man to just let go, to just  _ take _ what he wants. Because Will wants it too - every inch of him; wants him fierce and rough just as much as he longs for the soft and gentle. Hannibal holds back, worshipping Will with his mouth and tongue, content for now to simply taste his son as he’s desired to do for so long.

At the first brush of their groins slotting together, Hannibal moans and Will makes a wounded sound, clinging tighter while his kiss grows teeth and he rocks against his father. "Take me upstairs," he demands breathlessly when their lungs finally force them to part. "Let's fuck, make love, whatever just - just take me apart. I need to feel you."

“Come mylimasis,” Hannibal takes Will’s hand and guides him from the study, not hesitating as he leads them to the master bedroom. Hannibal’s massive bed, covered in crisp black satin sheets, takes up the center of the room, and Will can’t help but feel so very  _ small  _ next to it. 

“Bit grandiose, hm?” Will laughs nervously, suddenly overwhelmed at the implications of being in his father’s  _ room.  _ Once they take this step, there won’t be any coming back from it, and he finds that he’s far more comfortable with that idea than he expected to be. He knows in his bones that this is right, that he and Hannibal belong together. This can be their final becoming.

It’s clear Hannibal can see Will’s nerves like electricity arcing across his skin. He brings Will against his body, presses soothing kisses into the top of his curls and holds him for several minutes while they both catch their breath.

“This never has to be anything other than just this, darling. Just us. I don’t need to make love to you in order to show you the affection I have for you,” Hannibal assures him, but Will is already shaking his head and pulling away before Hannibal even finishes. 

“Daddy, I want this. I want  _ you  _ in every way possible. It’s just, like I said, I’ve never been with anybody before. Never even let anybody touch me or kiss me until you…” 

“My sweet boy. You’ve been so patient for me, haven’t you? Let me take care of you.” Hannibal’s voice is a soft, sweet purr. He pulls Will to the bed and encourages him to sit down, taking his time as he removes his shoes and socks, kneeling so he can press kisses into the arch of his foot.

“You don’t have to be so gentle with me, I won’t break,” Will breathes, lungs aching with the pressure of his growing arousal. It’s a bone-deep thing, charring and soothing in equal measures. 

“Don’t I?” Hannibal smirks up at him and Will’s stomach clenches at the sight of his father between his thighs. “Is it the monster you want, sweet Will? Would it feel easier to surrender to claws and teeth, compulsion rather than compassion?”

“I just want you,” Will insists, “And all that that entails.”

His pants are next, pulled down his legs along with his boxers so he’s fully exposed to Hannibal’s hungry gaze. He doesn’t comment on Will’s declaration, only continues his single-minded worship of Will’s body, kissing his way up his right leg until he reaches the crease of his thigh. There’s no hesitation before he licks a hot stripe along Will’s shaft where he’s already grown hard just from this, just from having his father’s hands on him. 

“Oh, Jesus,  _ fuck -” _ Will chokes out around a moan, head falling back as he fists his hands into the smooth sheets at his sides. A pitiful whimper leaves him as Hannibal’s hand reaches between his tensed thighs to fondle gently at his balls, the rest of Will’s aching cock encompassed in the smooth, slick heat of his dad’s mouth as he wraps fully around him and then swallows him down. “Oh, God, H- _ Hann _ ibal,” Will tries out his father’s name, feels his stomach clench and thighs quiver all over again at the feel of it. 

It’s not the first time; Will has, on more than one occasion, groaned, panted, moaned and whined just that name as he fucked desperately into his own fist. It  _ is, _ however, the first time he’s referred to his father in that way directly in his presence. And Hannibal, ever the one to keep Will on his toes,  _ moans _ around his length at the sound of it.

The vibrations shock through Will, sends a searing, nearly  _ painful _ jolt of pleasure juddering through his body. He cries out, distantly registers the sound of fabric tearing as he yanks at the sheets balled up in his clenching fists. And then, with barely even enough time for him to force out a warning of,  _ “God, _ Daddy, I’m -”, Will comes, his release pulsing hot and erratic into his father’s mouth as the man swallows him down easily.

Will collapses back onto the bed as soon as his dad pulls off of him, an arm slung over his stinging eyes as his face flames with embarrassment. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I - That was just -” He can barely speak for the knot of emotion swelling in his throat, an odd combination of relief at finally having crossed this barrier with his father and mortification that the moment seems to be over before they’d even truly gotten started.

Hannibal makes a soft, soothing sound, shifts up fluidly to straddle Will’s prone form. When his lips meet Will’s, tongue following closely behind to lick into his mouth, Will can taste himself on his father’s tongue. He strokes Will’s curls, down his neck and trailing further to pet down his flanks, all the while laying soft, adoring kisses to Will’s lips and cheeks.

“Hush, darling,” he soothes, voice low and rich as he beckons Will to relax into him. “I want you to just let yourself  _ feel, _ just like that. I've considered how it might be to bring you such pleasure many times. As I’ve come to expect, I never could have imagined the satisfaction of hearing you lost to yourself.”

“So fast,” Will grumbles forlornly, and feels another embarrassed flush flood his cheeks at the sound of Hannibal’s soft chuckle. When his father gently pulls Will’s arm away from his face, silently entreating him to meet his gaze, Will does so reluctantly.

“My sweet boy,” Hannibal strokes a thumb over the red swell of Will’s cheek, gazing down at him with a fondness that steals Will’s breath. “Your enthusiastic responsiveness is both endearing and maddening.” He catches Will’s lips in a chaste kiss once more, and then nuzzles the line of his jaw. When he speaks again, his breath spills hot and moist directly into Will’s ear. “And you are  _ sorely _ mistaken if you believe that I am anywhere close to being done with you tonight.”

His tongue slips into Will’s ear, warm and slick, causing a full-bodied shudder to wrack through him. In the same moment, he ceases supporting so much of his own weight and settles his body over Will’s gingerly but firmly. There’d be no wiggling out from under him, not that Will has any intention or desire to do so. He’s at his father’s mercy now; the mercy of a man that has butchered and eaten countless people - Will’s mother, his own  _ wife -  _ all for the reason that he simply  _ could. _

Will has never felt safer.

“Daddy -” Will whimpers breathlessly, an impossibly fierce arousal already twisting through his gut once more. “H-Hannibal,  _ please.  _ Show me - tell me what to do. Make me yours.” 

He doesn’t even realize his hands are scrabbling uselessly at his father’s clothing until the older man catches his hands and plants a tender kiss to each one. After one more silent but intensely communicative glance between them, Hannibal pulls his weight from Will and begins a much more effective disrobing.

“Take off your shirt, darling boy,” he instructs, soft but authoritative as he strips away his own waistcoat. “And move to the center of the bed.”

Will follows his instructions hastily, his heart hammering in his chest, cock stirring between his legs again so soon.

“So eager and responsive, my heart. I would see you enraptured, resplendent in pleasure throughout the entire night if you’d permit me.” Hannibal’s voice filters through the cotton in Will’s ears, piercing into his brain, slithering into his heart until he feels immeasurably full of his father’s love and adoration, his regard a heavy, heady thing. 

Will spreads his thighs to accommodate Hannibal as the other man finishes removing his clothes and puts them aside, crawling up the mattress like some great jungle cat who has eyes locked on his prey. Will’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of his father fully nude in a far more intimate way than either of them have ever experienced before. His gaze drops to the cock that hangs heavy and red between his thighs,  _ so large, _ and his stomach plummets as though the ground has just disappeared out from under him.  _ That’s going to go inside me,  _ Will can’t help but think wildly.  _ Wide and deep until there’s nothing left to separate us. _

Hannibal shoulders his legs even further apart, leaning low to lap up the precome already collecting again at the tip of Will’s cock. “You taste divine, beloved.” 

Will whimpers, his legs trying to close naturally as Hannibal takes his sensitive cock back into his mouth and tongues at it fervently. It’s while Will is distracted by this that he feels a finger seeking against his hole, teasing at the muscle. 

“I’ve only ever d-done this in the shower a coupla times,” Will breathes, relaxing his body to make the slide of Hannibal’s fingertip into his entrance easier. Hannibal pulls on his rim with just the tip of his forefinger, stretching him slightly but not enough to hurt. 

He releases Will’s cock and glides his tongue down past his balls to join his finger, licking around the digit like he’s found ambrosia’s source. 

Will whimpers, unable to stop the sound from wrenching free of his throat when Hannibal’s free hand slides up his body, soothing along his flank before dipping beneath a silk pillow to retrieve an obnoxiously fancy bottle of lube. It has a name written in French that Will can only vaguely translate in his current state, and it smells of elderberries when Hannibal opens it. 

“You’re obscene,” Will gasps on a whine when Hannibal wastes no time wetting his fingers and trailing them back to Will’s hole. He works at him again until he’s pliant and lax and then slides his entire middle finger in up to the second knuckle. 

Will  _ keens,  _ his legs falling further apart as he desperately rocks his body down against his father’s hand. 

"We're just alike," Hannibal counters in a murmur against the sensitive skin of Will's inner thighs. He's not wrong. 

Hannibal digs his teeth into the flesh he finds on Will’s thigh, at the same time sliding his finger all the way in until Will can feel the webbing between his fingers stretched against his rim. His father pulls back out again, applying more of the sweet smelling lubricant before he goes back in with two fingers this time, scissoring them apart to spread Will’s walls wide. 

He thinks he blacks out for a few seconds when Hannibal’s tongue darts  _ inside him,  _ between where his fingers are keeping Will held apart. “Daddy,  _ fuck,”  _ he groans, tossing his head back against the sheets and grinding himself needily against fingers and tongue. His fingers are like claws in the bedding, threatening to rend them further. 

One of Hannibal’s broad palms comes up to encircle his slender left hip, keeping him pinned down even as he tries to thrash against the hold. “Fuck me, please.” Will begs, trying desperately to take his father’s fingers in deeper. 

“You want to feel it?” Hannibal knows, Will can hear it in his voice. He knows that Will wants him,  _ all  _ of him in all possible ways. But more than anything he craves Hannibal’s skin against his, his panting grunts and their hips colliding until they leave bruises in the wake of their coupling. 

He pulls away without awaiting a reply from Will, likely doesn’t expect one, and shifts between Will’s spread legs until he’s on his knees. His cock is thick and leaking at the tip, foreskin already pulled back from the blood-red head and Will’s mouth goes dry on a groan of pure  _ want. _

Will’s hand reaches between them before he even realizes he’s doing so, his gaze fluttering up to meet Hannibal’s as his fingers explore his length tentatively. He’s seen a trace of desire in his dad’s gaze before, sometimes accompanying a look of longing that he always quickly shuttered away as soon as he realized Will’s attention was on him. 

He’s  _ never _ seen it displayed so nakedly, though; so open upon his features. It stops Will’s breath momentarily, to feel as though his father’s eyes are cataloguing and memorizing every inch of Will that he’d like to devour.

All he can hear is his own heartbeat, thudding rapidly,  _ desperately, _ in his chest like a bird bashing itself against the bars of its cage. When he pulls his touch away, he buries his trembling hand into the sheets at his side. And then he raises his knees, lifts his legs to better frame Hannibal’s hips, and raises his own in offering.

“I’m ready for you, Daddy,” Will promises, and though his voice sounds thick and husky to his own ears, he’s pleased that it doesn’t waver with the nerves currently twisting knots in his stomach.

He holds Hannibal’s gaze as the older man reaches for the lube once more, as the obscene, wet sounds of him slicking his cock shatter the silence that hangs around them. His father’s eyes are soft, adoring as he presses against Will, and when he begins to sink inside they flutter shut, and his face falls lax in pleasure and worship. It baffles Will completely that he could make someone look like  _ that. _ That someone would find him so desirable, so  _ worthy _ as to fall in reverent surrender before him simply for allowing them inside.

Will watches his father’s face, usually so stoic and controlled, twist through numerous, unguarded expressions of love and ecstasy before he’s finally seated fully within him, and Will’s own eyes are forced to slip shut. The feeling of fullness is an oddity; Will focuses on slow and steady breaths as the contradictory sensations of being invaded and finally feeling  _ complete  _ battle within him.

Warmth encompasses his cheek, strokes slowly and softly over the trails of tears that Will hadn’t even realized had been slipping from his eyes. His father appears when he forces them open again, shimmering through the veil of water still threatening to spill, and Will wants to  _ sob _ for the look of utter devotion that’s stricken the older man’s face.

“I love you, Daddy,” Will whimpers, tightening his hold around his dad’s hips. He reaches out to him again, all tremors swept aside, grasping at the sharp swell of his hip with one hand and covering the hand that cradles his face with the other. “Hannibal,” he purrs, giving his hips an aborted twitch to jostle the man pressed against them, “Make me yours.”

Hannibal dips low over him until Will’s nearly folded in half on himself and their chests brush together, their faces only inches apart. They share a breath and a gasp as Hannibal shifts out of Will and then slides back in once, once again with more certainty and speed. 

“My sweet boy, you’ve  _ always  _ been mine,” Hannibal murmurs, bends lower still to capture Will’s lips in a sweet, tender kiss. “My beautiful, incredible Will. There has never been a love more fierce or all-consuming as what fills me for you. The very sight of you nourishes me. The act of touching you is an ecstasy I never dreamt of being permitted.”

Will meets every thrust, moving his body so that the echoing slaps of their skin meeting over and over is nearly obscene in the room. Hannibal moves his hand from Will’s face to his nape, holding him up so their mouths are close enough to steal air from one another’s lungs. 

“I knew you’d be a fucking sap in bed, old man,” Will’s grin is broad and full of teeth, Hannibal’s answering snort full of joy. He pulls back and slams back into Will’s tight, clenching body just to remind Will of who’s in charge, he’s sure. “Jesus Christ.” Will’s throat feels raw from the air dragging out of his chest, expelled in warm, damp puffs against his father's cheeks. 

“Insolent boy. You’re trying to goad me into fucking you but it won’t work, darling. This first time I will have you precisely how I’ve dreamed, how you deserve.” His cock is so large inside Will that he feels he’s going mad from it, the pressure against his prostate enough to make his toes curl in the sheets. 

“Come on, daddy. Don’t I get a say? What if I  _ want  _ you to fuck me like you’ve  _ paid me?  _ What if I want more of the monster than the man? We have our entire lives for soft and slow, show me your  _ teeth.”  _ To emphasize, Will tilts his head to sink his own teeth into Hannibal’s flexing bicep, leaving a suck bruise in his wake. 

Hannibal hisses, though whether it’s in pleasure, surprise, or some amalgam of the two, Will doesn’t know. Hannibal’s amber eyes go ink black with arousal as his pupil floods the near red of his iris. “One should be careful what they wish for, beloved.” 

It’s the only warning Will gets before he’s being pulled up into Hannibal’s lap as though he weighs nothing, their chests crushed together by Hannibal’s strength alone. Will’s cock brushes against his father’s abdomen, pre-come smearing between them. A cry of surprise is wrenched from his chest as Will sinks fully into Hannibal’s lap, the cock inside him buried farther than ever, the feeling of it even more intense than before. He trembles against his father, hands scrabbling to grip his broad shoulders for support.

Hannibal's hands frame his face, pet along his jaw, through his sweat-mussed curls. It's not until the monster beneath him starts to shush him gently with soft words pressed to his temple and ears that he realizes he's been heaving raggedly for a steady breath.

"You're alright, darling. I have you, my love. Just relax with me." Hannibal makes an encouraging sound when Will falls pliant in his arms, allowing his body to go lax as Hannibal holds him steady and pushes up into him. “That’s it, Will. Let me take care of you.”

“Feels so good, daddy,” Will whimpers into Hannibal’s neck, licking desperately at the sweat collecting there and trying to rock down into his every thrust. 

“I know, sweet boy. For me too.” Hannibal’s voice is strained and Will knows he’s just as far gone as Will, rapidly nearing the precipice of his own pleasure and release. 

“Want you to come inside. Fill me up,” Will pleads, clenching around where his father is spearing him open and hollowing him out like he’s always belonged there. And he  _ has.  _ God, he has. Will could do this every day for the rest of their lives and it wouldn’t feel like enough. 

“Come for me, my love. Show me how much you enjoy having your daddy buried inside of you. Make a mess.” Hannibal nearly growls as his hips start to jerk faster, snapping up with more force. He pulls Will from his neck to reclaim his mouth, biting kisses into the flesh of his kiss-swollen lips. 

“Fuck,  _ yes,”  _ Will groans into Hannibal’s mouth, tasting himself on his father’s tongue, licking behind his teeth like an animal marking its mate. He wants this forever. 

Hannibal keeps a firm hold of Will’s nape with one hand, his other hand trailing down Will’s sweaty back to feel the place where they are connected, where his cock spreads Will’s rim wide for him. Will feels his stomach clench and his thighs spasm and then Hanniabl’s hand moves to his cock where it’s trapped between their bodies and he’s coming without warning, smearing come all over their stomachs and crying out his pleasure. 

“Good boy, just like that,” Hannibal praises him, the words nearly lost in a haze of delirious ecstasy as his father continues to milk his release from him. 

It’s just like that, pressed tightly together and sharing air that Will feels Hannibal drive his cock as far as it will go inside Will’s tight, clenching body and then he feels it twitch nearly violently as Hannibal spills inside of him. With a sharp exhale and soft moan, Hannibal pulls Will tight against him; the sensation of his father’s hot seed flooding him is nearly enough to send Will right over the edge again. He’s still shuddering with the remnants of his own orgasm, eyes squeezed shut and forehead pressed to Hannibal’s as he gasps for breath.

The silence surrounding them is nearly as deafening as the erratic pounding of Will’s heart in his ears. They open their eyes in the same instant, stormy blue meeting burnt red as though there is nothing else they’d rather see. Will feels the stupid grin spreading across his lips, and his stomach twists when his father mirrors it without delay. 

Hands that grip hips and shoulders too tightly relax, touches turning soft and lingering as fingers drift along swells and dips, memorizing every muscle and curve. All the while, Will holds Hannibal’s gaze, so undeniably affectionate that he can barely swallow around the lump that forms in his throat.

Minutes pass, or seconds, and then Hannibal is pulling slowly from Will’s sore hole, twisting their bodies until Will is laid out on the bed. He presses a swift and gentle kiss to Will’s mute mouth and murmurs something about cleaning up, urging Will to relax and stay still. Between one blink and the next his daddy is with him again, wiping at the mess they’ve both made of his body with a cloth so warm and soft Will hardly feels it scrubbing away at the remnants of their coupling.

When Hannibal climbs into bed and pulls satin sheets up around them, Will doesn’t hesitate to squirm closer to him, sighs as he feels strong arms circle around him and pull him closer still; hands that can love and kill alike drift over his flesh, pet through his hair, and Will has to wonder which is the greater threat to him. His father’s love or his monster. Or perhaps the liminal space where they become conjoined.

There’s so much he wants to say, so much they should talk about, but Will is heavy with pleasure and relief, and struggles to keep his eyes from drifting shut. When Hannibal presses a kiss to his temple and wishes him a hushed _happy_ _birthday,_ Will can only answer with a hum and slink into sleep nestled against his father; his monster and lover, his last thought before sleep takes him that yes, it _was_ a happy birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Causing Trouble in Hotel Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Quiet, sweet boy. You wouldn’t want your uncle to hear you, would you?” Hannibal’s voice is soft, teasing, and Will aches with how painfully he wants him. He doesn’t care if Nigel hears, he just wants his daddy to be in him already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is also a prequel to the first installment of Daddy Issues - this is the time when Nigel figures out what’s going on behind closed doors!

Will knows his whimpers are loud and echoing, the sounds pulled from his throat before he can even think to stop them, but he’s  _ desperate.  _

“Quiet, sweet boy. You wouldn’t want your uncle to hear you, would you?” Hannibal’s voice is soft, teasing, and Will aches with how painfully he wants him. He doesn’t  _ care  _ if Nigel hears, he just wants his daddy to be  _ in him  _ already. 

He’s impatient; they’d spent the entire day together as a family, in public and unable to show affection in the usual ways. To have his daddy so close after  _ months  _ apart and have to watch every glance, every casual touch that might look too  _ intimate _ to an outsider was unbearable. 

“Daddy,  _ please,”  _ Will whines, arching his body against Hannibal’s. He’s honestly surprised they’ve managed this time together at all, seizing the opportunity when Nigel had fallen asleep on the other side of the two-bedroom suite they shared. The bathroom connects both bedrooms, the door to Nigel’s room currently locked to avoid any potential embarrassment. There is an extravagant living room as well - where Will is expected to be sleeping tonight, though he and Hannibal are perfect aware of where he’ll actually end up - not that Will spent more than a handful of seconds examining it before Nigel excused himself for a nap and Will coaxed Hannibal into a bath.

Will had known Nigel was in town, but he hadn’t expected Hannibal to bring him along for their time together during Will’s winter break. He doesn’t begrudge his uncle, a near carbon-copy of his own father, with sharp eyes and a rumbling voice that tugs at something  _ visceral _ in Will’s gut.

He knows the man has experienced a lot of difficulties recently, but Will wants his daddy. He wants to recapture what they’d discovered together ever since his eighteenth birthday the year before, what they’d been missing since he went away to college. 

Striking out on his own - as much as a college freshman can - has been invigorating, but the isolation from the one man he truly cares for, the loneliness of eating meals alone and tossing about a too-empty bed has brought with his freedom a certain  _ ache. _ He wants to fill the void caused by the absence of his other half, knows his daddy can do so like nothing else. 

Hannibal has Will pinned to the gaudy marble counter, his palm in Will’s pants as he grinds the heel of his hand against Will’s hard cock. His father has always been so soft with him, but Will can see the tension in Hannibal’s shoulders, the dangerous glint of his eyes. A predator too long deprived of his mate's touch and scent, and even if Hannibal was still gentle, Will knows this will be a teasing, heady experience. 

“Darling Will, how I’ve missed you,” Hannibal  _ finally  _ presses close enough to capture Will’s lips in a kiss, and Will sighs happily against his father’s mouth. 

The sound of the water running in the background pulls Will back into focus, and he chuckles into the kiss. “We should get in the bath, daddy. Wanna touch you.” 

Hannibal lifts him bodily, as though he weighs nothing at all, and it makes Will’s stomach clench with aroused delight. He loves being manhandled by Hannibal, with his soft, worshipful hands. He giggles all the way to the bath, muffled as best he can into his father’s shoulder. Hannibal makes quick work of their clothes and then gently deposits Will into the warm, sudsy water, following immediately after.

They waste no time, his father crowding him against the edge of the tub, his back pressed against the bronzed metal. He flips Will effortlessly with a smooth tug of hands so they are back to chest, Hannibal’s arms encircling him and keeping Will held firmly against his chest, the edge of the tub digging into where his stomach leans against it. 

“You’d let me do anything wouldn’t you my sweet boy, you need me so much,” Hannibal’s voice is thick with his arousal, a low growl in Will’s ear that he can feel vibrating down into his chest, seizing his lungs. 

“Yes, daddy,  _ anything,”  _ Will breathes, grinding himself back on Hannibal’s lap, teasing them both. Hannibal’s cockhead nearly catches on Will’s hole, and they gasp in tandem, Hannibal rocking up into the sensation as Will falls back harder against him. 

“I’m going to stretch you out around my fingers, darling. Keep you nice and full until I’m ready to take you,” Hannibal promises, one of his hands wandering down to do just that. 

Will feels the blunt press of Hannibal’s middle finger against his entrance, tries to coax his muscles into laxness as Hannibal retrieves a travel bottle of lubricant from where he’d left it on the lip of the tub, coating his fingers before lifting Will so that his hips are raised above the water, his hole exposed to his father’s gaze. 

Hannibal’s finger feels like ecstasy after so long without, but also not nearly enough. Will growls his frustration, flashing his teeth, and sinks his body down onto his father’s hand, rocking back until Hannibal sinks in fully. 

_ “More,” _ Will pleads, and Hannibal gives him what he wants, doesn’t leave him waiting for long. He pulls out and slides back in with two fingers now, and Will  _ keens.  _

Hannibal presses his cheek to Will’s, shushes him softly. “Quiet now, naughty boy, or we’ll be interrupted before we can truly begin.” He moves fast, turning Will back around to rest practically in his lap, and Will settles his hands on his father’s hips to keep his balance, adjusting to the change effortlessly; it’s always effortless with them, the one always perfectly anticipating and mirroring the other. 

His father fucks him just like that, body suspended above his lap as he moves within Will, spreading him open and scissoring his two fingers to stretch Will’s rim wider. He drinks down Will’s soft mewls and feeds them back to him as he does so, until Will is sufficiently prepared and  _ so _ worked up he’s panting for more.

Hannibal finally pulls his fingers from Will's desperate, clenching body, no hesitation as he replaces them with his thick cock. Will knows if he could see it, it would be swollen and leaking at the tip, his foreskin pulled back in his pleasure. 

It’s slow, the pressure dizzying as Hannibal spears him open and spreads him apart, hollowing him out with his cock. It’s bliss, the feeling of completeness, of being full of his father. Will tosses his head back with a groan and tries to quicken the pace, but Hannibal holds him steady and maintains the torturously slow progression. 

“Daddy, please,” Will begs, fluttering his lashes and flashing Hannibal a coy grin. Hannibal ignores him, seemingly holding his breath until he finally bottoms out and exhales all at once. It’s only then that Will truly considers the fact Hannibal has missed him all this time, just as desperately as Will has missed his father. 

The pace remains slow and sensual, neither of them daring to make too much noise with the knowledge they could be discovered. Every slosh of water is deafening in the near-silent room, echoing this sacred, private moment out over and over until it feels as though it no longer belongs to only them. When Hannibal finally lets Will move, Will rides him with lazy figure eights of his hips, keeping himself full and stretched around Hannibal’s shaft.

The water sloshes gently around them as Will raises his hands to Hannibal’s shoulders, Will’s own hips increasing the pace as they rock against his father fervently. He chokes out a strangled gasp as his daddy finally wraps a large, sure hand around Will’s cock. His other hand trails up to Will’s throat, pressing against his fluttering pulse before it finally moves to cover Will’s mouth. 

For several moments, the only sound is that of the water and the heavy breaths panting out of Will’s nose. And then his father’s voice joins the chorus, low and rhythmic -  _ soothing - _ and Will’s stomach twists so harshly with desire it  _ hurts. _

“So close already, aren’t you, darling?” Hannibal breathes the words between them, and Will can only nod emphatically and tighten his grip on Hannibal’s shoulders in response. “It’s a shame we can’t make this last a little longer; I’d have liked to lay you out on our bed and worship you for hours. But we’ve not been afforded the privacy we’d need for such a thing, and you’ve waited so long, haven’t you?”

Will squeaks out a desperate, pleading noise as Hannibal tilts his hips to brush more insistently against his prostate, his hand working Will’s cock with slow, smooth strokes. Hannibal shushes him, eyes glinting with pleasure at having taken Will apart so thoroughly even with only this brief, stolen moment, forced to sequester themselves away in the bathroom of a hotel room for a tryst like it’s some indecent affair.

Will often dreams about his father taking him away somewhere else for a holiday, somewhere no one knows them, where they can hold hands and kiss in public, have romantic dinners and then slip away to whatever accommodations they’ve rented and not have to worry about making noise or being overheard.

His stomach clenches almost painfully with arousal, he’s on the edge of tumbling over the precipice, happily falling into Hannibal’s embrace. Being away at college also means a lot of nights spent desperately rutting against his mattress with one of the toys his father purchased for him shoved as deep as it can go and even still it isn’t enough, doesn’t fill him how Hannibal does.

He doesn’t realize he’s squeezed his eyes shut until Hannibal’s murmurs coax them open again, their gazes locked with emotion strung so tensely between them that to merely call it  _ love _ will never do it justice. It’s so far beyond love, obsession and possession;  _ they belong to each other. _ To, with, and  _ for _ each other. It’s one of those inescapable, inarguable core facts about the Universe. Gravity pulls, the Earth is round, and Will and Hannibal are one soul residing in two bodies.

“You don’t have to wait any longer,” Hannibal assures him softly. “Come for your daddy now.”

And Will  _ does,  _ his body drawing tight and trembling as his cock spills his release hot over Hannibal’s fist and something inside him  _ cracks _ and the tears start to flow.

“There,” Hannibal utters on a pleased breath, “That’s my good boy.” 

He removes his hand from Will’s mouth, moving it to still his hips as Hannibal’s seed floods him. Will dips his head down until the two of them are sharing their hot, panting breaths, eyes squeezed closed once again and throat clogged with all the words he wishes he could let tumble forth. He knows if he starts speaking he’ll never be able to staunch the flow, and there’s still his Uncle Nigel to consider in the other room.

He shivers as Hannibal’s lips move to ghost across his cheeks, along his jaw, wiping clean every trace of the tears Will weeps in his overwrought, overly emotional state. “Come now, sweet thing,” Hannibal soothes against his skin, hands petting gentle, comforting strokes up and down the length of Will’s spine. “No more tears,  _ mylimasis.” _

“I want to come  _ home,” _ Will croaks out around a sniffle, a fresh flood of hot tears filling his eyes when his father makes a soft, almost wounded noise and holds Will closer, fingers dancing through his damp curls. Will buries his face against warm, familiar smelling skin. “I miss you. I hate sleeping alone and the food here is terrible.”

“For what they charge me every semester for a cafeteria pass, it best not be.”

Hannibal’s low retort is successful in pulling a giggle from Will, lightening the mood, at least enough so that he feels up to the task of pulling his face from his father’s neck. “It’s not  _ terrible,” _ he amends softly, sheepishly. “But it isn’t yours.”

Hannibal gazes at him fondly, hands still moving across his body to continue his gentle caressing; down Will’s neck, through his curls, along his jaw, down his flanks. “I do miss providing for you. Nigel has certainly benefited from my continued habit of cooking for two since he arrived in Baltimore.” Hannibal cups Will’s cheek and guides him forward gently to press another soft kiss to his lips. “Just a few weeks ago you were so adamant about staying in Amherst.”

“I knew I wouldn’t leave again if I came home even for Christmas. I thought it would be easier if you came here, but having you again…” Will allows his own fingers to explore his father, mapping out the width of his broad shoulders, curling lazily through the thick pelt of hair covering his solid chest. “Don’t make me stay away from you for the brief time I actually have you, daddy,” Will pleads in a whisper.

“You can stay in my bed, just as long as you move to the couch before your uncle wakes up.” Hannibal relents easily, and Will wonders now if that hadn’t been his father’s plan all along, if he’d ever intended on banishing Will to the couch to sleep alone when they were finally so near each other again.

His cock slips from Will at the first jostling of their bodies, long since grown soft as they’d sat in their dirty water and conversed in hushed tones. Will aches already with the absence, wonders if he might be able to convince his daddy to fuck him one more time before morning. He could lay Will out on his bed, just as he’d said, press him into the mattress and roll into him, slow and deep, if Will only promised to  _ stay quiet. _

“You’re filthy, darling boy. Let’s see about getting you an  _ actual  _ bath.” Hannibal pulls Will from the water, and Will watches as it swirls slowly down the drain, his father moving around the room behind him and checking the lock on the door again. 

“Were you so distracted earlier that you didn’t get that latched properly? Or are you concerned your brother is the type to barge through closed doors without knocking?” Will teases warmly. He can’t help but wonder how his father’s twin would react if he burst into the bathroom expecting to take a midnight piss and instead found his brother and nephew sharing an intimate, sensual bath. His gut clenches anew at the thought, and he pushes it away as Hannibal looks at him severely. 

“Don’t taunt me, sweet Will. I see you stirring already, I will leave you wanting and waiting all night if you tease me.” The glint in Hannibal’s eyes shows how serious he is so Will doesn’t speak another word on it, simply climbs back into the fresh, lightly scented warm water Hannibal fills the tub with and sinks into his father’s arms. Hannibal cleans him gently, soft movements over his skin, and then he washes his hair for him. Will is nearly purring with contentment before Hannibal finally declares him clean and they retire for the night. 

Half of the generous queen-sized mattress is wasted as Will presses as closely as he can to his father, curling his lithe body around the older man’s and snuggling so close they share the same pillow, faces resting mere inches from each other.

Will gazes into his father’s eyes, somehow still glinting ethereally in the near-black of the room. “There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he begins after a moment, and then wets his dry lips and swallows around the lump in his throat.

“You know you can discuss anything with me, Will.”

“I know,” Will nods, wetting his lips again. “I, uh…I was wondering if you could...if you would show me -”

“Relax, mylimasis,” Hannibal urges, one warm palm raising to cup Will’s jaw gently, grazing his thumb along Will’s cheekbone feather-light,

“I have a subscription to Tattlecrime,” Will blurts out finally, and then, when his father seems to have no input on this seemingly useless revelation, continues, “So I can see all the crime scene pictures they post before the FBI gets a chance to pull them down. I, um, w-would you -”

Hannibal captures Will’s lips in a kiss, bruising and biting until he finally bids entrance and his father can lick incessant and filthily into his mouth. He shifts their bodies, holds Will close and then rolls them both until Will is well and truly pinned beneath him. When he’s been rendered nearly breathless from the intensity of Hannibal’s mouth, the older man pulls back and gazes down at Will curiously. “Say what you need to say, my love.”

Will, achingly hard from the attention, mind spinning and lungs heaving after having his breath stolen again and again over the course of minutes, stares back up at his father and demands on a breathless and husky whisper, “Make me something pretty, daddy.”

The soft growl that rumbles from his father’s chest brings a stifled gasp to Will’s lips, and it bursts forth without warning when Hannibal pushes his thighs further apart and then buries himself into Will’s used and pliant hole in one calculated thrust. He presses into Will until he can go no further, and then captures his trembling lips in another dizzying kiss.

“My sweet, darling boy,” Hannibal murmurs against his lips, his own curling into a pleased smile as Will sighs against him. “I shall sculpt you a masterpiece.”

\---

Nigel isn’t surprised that Hannibal is fucking his nephew. He and his brother have a history together, so he takes it in stride. The faint sounds filtering in from the bathroom are enough to cause Nigel’s cock to fill with blood even as his brain fills with memories of a time long ago, a time when it would have been him and Hannibal in the same situation. 

He wonders if his dear twin can hear his own wanton sounds in those of his boy. Hannibal’s son sounds like dulcet whore being paid to fuck, and Nigel would be lying to say he isn’t interested. He recalls, vividly, the shape of Hannibal’s mouth spread out around Nigel’s cock, the sound of his pleasure as he rode Nigel; thighs flexing and muscles pulled taunt, his body covered in sweat and the remnants of his own release. 

If his brother is beautiful, his son is ethereal, a creature on a whole other plane of existence. His little cherub cheeks and ringlet curls that perfectly frame his face, sea water eyes and a pouty mouth just begging to be kissed, or stuffed full of cock. 

Nigel imagines Hannibal is only ever soft with the boy, his milky white skin and fluttering lashes drawing out the gentler side of his brother’s nature. But when Nigel looks at Will all he sees is  _ potential.  _ The way his creamy flesh would bruise beautifully in the shapes of Nigel’s fingertips, how lovely his legs would look spread wide over Nigel’s hips as he fucked him into the mattress. He wonders if he would be able to pull the same sweet, soft sounds from his nephew, or whether he could get him to  _ scream  _ for him. 

His hand wanders beneath the heavy blanket and rubs against his hardening length through his boxers. He sleeps in the nude almost exclusively, but decided it might be for the best to wear  _ something  _ while visiting his nephew. Now, he’s not so sure… 

Nigel increases the pressure, not one to tease himself. He pulls himself out, leaves his underwear wrapped around his thighs just below his cock and strokes. He tries to keep pace with the sounds of pleasure he hears, but it seems they are escalating now, both of them close if the breathy noises from Will and the rough growls from Hannibal are any indication. His brother always had been more animal than man when they fucked. 

Nevermind the increased sloshing of the bath water, almost more of a giveaway than anything else. From the sounds of it, young Will has taken on his father’s penchant for riding cock hard and fast. He can picture so perfectly the boy straddling his father, Hannibal’s fingers digging into Will’s hips as his own buck up into the tight heat of his son’s hole; Will clutching at his shoulders and chest, face tucked against him and eyes screwed shut tight as he makes failing attempts to remain quiet.

Nigel groans as his fingers drag down his foreskin, and he presses his thumb just below the head of his cock before he takes himself fully in hand and starts up a brutal pace. He hasn’t come in weeks, honestly hasn’t been in the mood for it, but as the sounds of desperation increase in the next room Nigel feels his own desperation growing. 

He hears a soft, breathy moan drift through the thin door that separates them, and can’t help but be transported back to Romania instantly. Back to pressing an impossibly soft body into a fluffy, feather down comforter and the soft whimpers that fluttered from her throat like butterflies; back to the woman that left him, the cunt that stole her, and the pigs that chased him from his home. Nigel bites his cheek until copper floods his mouth, drowning out the memories that haunt him and grounding him in the present moment. 

_ Fucking filthy shits,  _ Nigel thinks viciously as he jerks his aching cock, squeezing  _ just _ too hard to be fully pleasurable.

It works, though, the pain only makes the pleasure sharper, more urgent. As the sounds of water sloshing increases, Nigel can imagine he just barely hears the whimpering mewls of his nephew muffled by what is most likely Hannibal’s hand. He remembers that broad palm working him over, familiarizing itself with Nigel’s body, a body so much like its own. They only knew each other before they ever knew anyone else; after losing Mischa they’d only cared to be together, had only desired to explore one another in every possible way.

He hisses through his teeth at the shift in focus his mind takes as he watches his own hand on his swollen cock. He rubs his thumb through the pre-come gathering copiously at the tip and imagines  _ his  _ hand on Will’s lithe little body, his nephew barely legal and looking like sin with his plush lips and the curve of his waist and ass. What sounds could he and Hannibal draw from him together? Blindfolded and bound, would Will be able to tell the difference in their hands? Would he know whether it was Hannibal touching him, bringing him pleasure, or Nigel?

Another growl from Hannibal and a sound so breathy and high from Will that Nigel knows they’ve come and his stomach clenches  as he spills all over his hand and his lower abdomen, unable to deny his intrigue at the thought of ruining his nephew, leaving the soft, sweet boy sobbing for more, or for less. He huffs, laughing to himself as he reaches for the pack of smokes at his bedside.

He itches to wrap his fingers around the box and pull one out, light it and inhale the fumes to expel all the shit that takes up space in his throat and chest nowadays, but reins in the urge. It’s less about giving a shit about the hotel’s smoke-free policy and more about the fact his brother would surely smell it if he did, the smoke wafting through the gaps in the doors to hang heavily in the air. 

And if Nigel was up and smoking, that meant he was up and doing other things as well. Despite obviously having the moral high ground in this particular situation -  _ in _ spite of the fact that he’d just jerked off to the sweet sounds of a father fucking his own son - Nigel isn’t quite prepared to confront his brother on this matter. In fact, he quite enjoys having been dealt such a fucking fantastic hand that he wagers he’ll hold onto it for a while, play it when it really counts.

It’s barely thirty minutes later, just as he’s settling in to make an  _ actual _ attempt at sleep, that Nigel hears the quiet groaning of bed springs from the other bedroom. He’s immediately amused by the relentless pair, even as he feels a stab of jealousy and arousal twist in his gut and burn through him, his cock threatening to stir once again. It would seem that, in all the ways Nigel and Hannibal are identical, their refractory period is no exception. 

He doesn’t think too much about it as he wraps his hand around his still come-tacky cock and starts up a slow pace to the harsh grunts and rough growls from the next room over, a crooked smirk on his lips as he envisions exactly what the future may hold.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚 💜 BellaRai


	4. Hurt Me Sweetly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Do you remember that first time, last summer?”_
> 
> _Nigel blinks at him. “Of course,” he murmurs, reaches up to trail a finger along Will’s jawline lightly. He knows exactly what Will is referring to. “I could never forget a moment of you.”_
> 
> _“You slapped me,” Will continues, and Nigel feels an unfamiliar and wholly unwelcome rush of shame spill through him at the reminder._
> 
> _“Yeah, I did,” he admits, because he can hardly deny it, nor would he disrespect Will by attempting to. He can feel his lips twist into a grimace as embarrassment flames hot across his face. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m afraid your uncle’s a bit of a bastard.”_
> 
> _“I liked it.” The words flow from Will’s mouth quickly, as though he has to physically push them out as fast as possible or they’ll stay stuck behind his teeth. “I - I didn’t mind. I thought it was...interesting.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again we have eternal thanks for Dusk and their lovely prompt that started this all! This is the first fic of this series set in the future, after the first hook up between the trio!

Nigel is perfectly fine living the bachelor life, prefers it even in some ways, but he misses having someone around. Misses a warm body pressed against him at night and someone to wake up to, to come home to. 

One perk, at least, of being related to Hannibal is that Nigel never goes hungry and hasn’t seen a ramen noodle in  _ months.  _ His fridge is full of fancy containers full of equally fancy meals, some of them the usual fare and others, well,  _ other.  _

He’s settled in for the night, a reheated meal of veal and risotto sitting in front of him - he’d even taken the time to plate it because he knew Hannibal would appreciate him  _ caring  _ for the food - when he hears a knock at his front door.

The  _ last _ person he expects to see is  _ Will,  _ his sweet nephew, shifting his weight between his feet and chewing at his bottom lip anxiously. His cheeks are flushed red from the cold, his curls a windswept, riotous mess.

“Will,” Nigel states, as if the boy before him needs to be reminded of his own name. He blinks and collects himself, stepping aside and ushering Will into the apartment. “Hanni didn’t mention you were coming home this weekend.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees as he shuffles inside, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I was hoping for a chance to talk to you.  _ Alone.” _

Nigel’s brows knit together as he frowns, casting a scrutinizing gaze on the nervous boy. “Everything alright, darling?” And then, because he’s not a  _ completely _ shit host, “You want a drink?”

“No,” Will replies, “Thank you,” he adds, to infer his response is to the latter question and not the former. “And yes, everything’s alright.” Will’s strips out of his coat and drapes it over the back of the couch, though he goes back to biting fretfully at his lower lip. 

Nigel finds himself compelled to close the distance between them, moved by the overwhelming urge to pull the boy close and kiss his swollen, bitten lips and assure him he can talk to him about anything. He does so, unable to stop himself, arousal stirring to life quickly when Will hums into the kiss and his lips curl into a lazy smile. It falters and then falls when the haziness leaves Will’s eyes and he peers up at Nigel beneath his own set of furrowed brows.

“Do you remember that first time, last summer?”

Nigel blinks at him. “Of course,” he murmurs, reaches up to trail a finger along Will’s jawline lightly. He knows exactly what Will is referring to. “I could never forget a moment of you.”

“You slapped me,” Will continues, and Nigel feels an unfamiliar and wholly unwelcome rush of shame spill through him at the reminder.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, because he can hardly deny it, nor would he disrespect Will by attempting to. He can feel his lips twist into a grimace as embarrassment flames hot across his face. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m afraid your uncle’s a bit of a bastard.”

“I liked it.” The words flow from Will’s mouth quickly, as though he has to physically push them out as fast as possible or they’ll stay stuck behind his teeth. “I - I didn’t mind. I thought it was...interesting.”

Nigel’s eyes flash as awareness dawns upon him like sunlight through a break in the clouds.  _ “Interesting.” _ He repeats, a predatory smirk already pulling his lips up at the corners. “You didn’t tell your daddy you were coming to Baltimore because you want to slip away back to school after where he can’t see the marks on you.”

Will lets out a bated breath and curls his lips into a sheepish smile of his own. “Right in one.”

“You  _ want _ me to hurt you,” Nigel continues, his dick twitching with interest even as the words are passing his lips.

“And they say  _ Hannibal _ is the smart twin,” Will’s smile shifts to something more assured, wry and taunting as the boy regains his confidence - and his sassy mouth.

Nigel growls; closes any remaining distance between them and wraps his fingers up tight in Will’s soft curls. He doesn’t pull, not yet, he wants to confirm a few things first. “Sweetheart, your mouth is one sure way to get me to hurt you, but I guarantee you won’t like it.” 

Will’s pupils are bleeding so black that his irises look like an ocean storm, dark grey and ruinous. His cheeks are flushed in a pretty pink that spreads down his throat and underneath his shirt where Nigel can’t see it anymore. He wants to taste it, so he does, leaning forward to drag his tongue from Will’s chin down his neck, smirking against the pale column of the boy’s exposed throat as he whimpers and writhes in place, his breath picking up. 

_ “Uncle Nigel,” _ he whispers, and it almost sounds like a prayer. And well, Nigel would hate to disappoint him. 

“Tell me you want this, Will.  _ Exactly  _ what you want.” Nigel teases him, placing sharp, quick little nips all along his jawline until he reaches his earlobe and  _ yanks.  _

Will gasps, takes a second to try and compose himself. “I -” he whines when Nigel pulls away, giving him just enough space so that he doesn’t feel totally crowded against the hallway wall. “I want you to hurt me. I want you to be rough and to take whatever you want from me. I  _ need it.”  _

Nigel snarls, using his hold on Will’s hair to snap his head back and look into his eyes. He can see the desire blatantly there, can feel the press of Will’s obvious erection where it rubs against his hip. The only question remaining is  _ why?  _ He decides to ask. “Why, darling?” 

Will huffs a frustrated little sigh, shifting and trying to get out of Nigel’s hold. Nigel releases him without hesitation, uncertainty flashing in the back of his mind. “I’ve thought about it.” Will pauses, takes a deep breath and continues. “A lot. I love what we all have together, love you both so much. But you’re always so careful with me, like I’ll break if you go too hard. I can see how much effort it takes to hold back sometimes - can see it in both of you. I won’t, though. Uncle Nigel, I can  _ take it.  _ I want to see all of you, even the dark parts. Wanna take everything you’ve got.” 

He leans back against the wall, looking into Nigel’s eyes imploringly, and it’s really all the reason Nigel needs. If he’s honest with himself, he didn’t even really need to know the why, he just wanted to make Will squirm a bit. 

“Well alright, baby. You can have whatever you want, all you gotta do is ask.” Nigel’s grin is feral, his eyes gleaming. It’s a dangerous thing to give a monster such as Nigel free rein, but he’s about to cash in every moment. 

He reaches forward to take Will’s curls in his hand again, this time yanking the boy into a bruising kiss that turns bloody immediately, bright copper bursting on his tongue as he licks into his nephew’s mouth. Will always tastes wild, like a forest fire, and Nigel will gladly allow himself to be consumed by him. 

Tonight, however, he thinks he’ll take the lead. “Come on, little slut. Let’s see how much you can take, hm?” Nigel drags Will by his hair to the living room, tossing him so he lands hard on his hands and knees on the floor. He sees the grimace on the boy’s face as his knees rub harshly against his jeans in the uncomfortable position. 

Will looks up at him with wide, wet eyes and his lip bitten between his teeth. “How do you want me, Uncle Nigel?” He asks, and the words are sweet like honey and already just as thick, like his throat is clogged. His nephew has lived too long under the care of monsters, he knows how to affect whatever image is desired. 

“Take your fucking clothes off and bend over the sofa. I’ll be right back.” Nigel growls, giving Will another sharp slap to his cheek when he doesn’t move quickly enough for his liking. 

He walks with a purpose, grabs lube and some soft cuffs, considers one of his paddles but decides he has something far more intimate planned for his darling nephew. 

When he walks back into the living room, Will flinches at the sound of his footsteps, but doesn’t move from his position bent over the sofa cushions. Nigel takes a moment to appreciate the gentle curve of his spine where it dips towards the couch, and the swell of his slender hips and thighs. 

Will’s curls have grown unruly in his time away from home, and they spill across his face and cast shadows along his cheeks, blocking Nigel’s view of eyes he knows will be a lovely sea-tempest blue. 

“Perfect, darling. Look at all of this exposed skin,” Nigel praises, stepping closer and placing the items he gathered onto the coffee table. He slaps Will’s ass suddenly with an open palm, hard enough that when he pulls his hand away there are bright pink marks in the shapes of his fingers left behind. 

Will whimpers prettily and Nigel can’t help but hit him again, already enjoying how gorgeous the marks appear on his pale skin. 

“Think I wanna play with you a bit, gorgeous. Why don’t you come into Uncle Nigel’s lap and get comfortable?” Nigel settles onto the couch beside Will and pats his lap temptingly. 

Will is already behaving perfectly, doesn’t speak as he crawls into Nigel’s lap where he’s sprawled out on the couch with his legs spread wide. 

Once Will settles, Nigel grabs a handful of his ass, kneading the flesh and watching as the skin turns white in the impressions of his fingers. 

“You have such a perfect ass, sweetheart. It’s no wonder your daddy just  _ had _ to fuck you, just had to share.” 

Will’s breathing increases, his chest rising and falling rapidly against Nigel’s knees. Nigel lets him stay just like that, awkwardly sprawled across Nigel’s lap for several moments, just enjoying the view and the boy’s submissiveness. 

“Uncle Nigel,” Will breathes, and Nigel smirks at the tremble in his voice. He can feel Will’s muscles drawn taut in anticipation, and he’d hate to keep the boy waiting. 

Nigel responds with a sharp, open-palmed slap to Will’s exposed flesh, watching as his plush ass undulates under the assault. He doesn’t stop there, rains down blow after blow, listening to Will whimper and moan and hissing when the boy writhes on his lap, stirring his own erection where it presses against his pants. 

He knows Will is leaking pre-come onto his jeans, can feel the warm dampness even now. “Filthy fucking whore, you’re getting off on this, aren’t you? You fucking love when your dirty Uncle Nigel smacks you around, don’t you? Like being hurt.” 

_ “Yes,” _ Will whines, voice growing high and reedy with each subsequent strike. “Please Uncle Nigel,” Will gasps out before his voice breaks on a wet sob. “Please don’t stop.”

Will doesn’t want Nigel to stop so, of course, he does, his hand stilling and then petting slowly over the red, heated flesh of his nephew’s bottom. “I think  _ I’ll _ decide what’s best for you, don’t you agree?  _ I’ve _ got the experience, after all,” Nigel reminds him with one more swift smack. “The wisdom.” Another. “I think you’ll take whatever it is I decide to give you, and thank me for it like the little slut you are.”

“I trust you,” Will whines, and Nigel is torn between being incredibly touched and the instinct to inform this soft boy that he’s making a grave mistake in doing so.

In the end, the bastard Will has come here for wins out, and Nigel threads his fingers through Will’s curls coyly before tightening his grasp and yanking the boy higher so he can place his lips against Will’s burning ear.

“Is that so? And do you think it’s a matter of  _ trust _ that will stop the lion from devouring the lamb?”

His darling nephew, beautiful and precocious and always one to throw Nigel for a loop, merely responds with a low moan as he grinds his hips down into Nigel’s lap. “I’d let you,” he declares, and despite the wanton desire and as yet unresolved anticipation in the boy’s voice, Nigel believes the statement is completely truthful.

“And if I want  _ you _ devouring  _ me? _ On your knees, little slut,” Nigel commands, nudging Will from his lap until the boy takes the hint and rolls to the ground as gracefully as he can, kneeling before Nigel as a willing supplicant.

Nigel nudges him further back, until he has room to stand, and then does so, casting a tight grip upon Will’s pretty curls as he tugs at the fastenings on his jeans with one hand. He’s rock fucking hard when he pulls himself from the confines of his pants, the tip of his cock already shining with the arousal leaking from him, and he holds his boy’s head still as he paints his pre-come over Will’s gorgeously plump, red lips.

“Open up, sweetheart,” Nigel demands, nudging at his nephew’s sealed lips until the boy opens to him, enveloping his dick in the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. Nigel allows the boy a bit of control for a short time, lets Will show his eager enthusiasm and gives himself a moment to simply exist, enjoying the attention.

But Will didn’t come all the way from Amherst to merely suck Nigel’s dick. He came to be used, abused. He came to be hurt, and Nigel is still plenty far from obliging him the way he meant to.

Nigel pulls his cock from Will’s plush mouth, and takes his cheeks in a vice grip. He squeezes until Will whimpers in pain and makes to free himself, and then Nigel uses his other hand to slap Will sharply and suddenly across the face for the disobedience. 

“You’ll stay where I put you, or you won’t like the consequences little whore. You’ll remember you asked for this, your  _ special treatment.”  _ Nigel emphasizes the statement with another harsh slap to Will’s other cheek, always a fan of symmetry. 

Will looks as though he might speak, so Nigel hits him again, this time hard enough to split his lip, blood blooming bright crimson to the surface. “Don’t say a fucking word, gorgeous. I’d hate to fuck up your pretty face too much, but I’m a violent, bad man, baby. I’m prone to getting a little carried away.” 

It’s a lie, of course. Nigel might have a hair-fine trigger on his anger and is more likely to kill than to start a conversation, but he would never hurt Will. Domestic abuse isn’t really his brand of monster. But Will’s eyes grow wide with fear laced arousal, and something in Nigel’s gut clenches at it. 

“Open your fucking mouth.” Nigel hooks his thumb into the soft tissue of Will’s inner cheek, distending his cheek and yanking roughly on his jaw until drool is spilling out of Will’s mouth and down his chin, making him look even more like the filthy slut he wants Nigel to treat him as. Nigel forces several fingers past Will’s teeth, spreading them out across his tongue and keeping his mouth open wide enough to ache. 

Even when Nigel slides his fingers out of Will’s pliant mouth the boy keeps it open and waiting, the picture of the perfect submissive little twink. Nigel doesn’t hesitate this time, sliding his cock past those luscious, soaking lips and not stopping until he feels Will gag around the intrusion as he hits the back of his throat. 

“Good boy, it’s like I fucking paid you for it. Look so pretty covered in spit and all my marks, bet I could make you even prettier.” 

Nigel’s hips start up a grueling, brutal pace as he pistons into Will’s warm mouth, slipping into the excruciating tightness and heat of Will’s throat over and over again. Will is crying in earnest now, tears streaming from the corners of his red-rimmed eyes, the bright-blue ring of his iris nearly totally devoured by the inky blackness of his blown pupils. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that,” Nigel grinds deep and holds himself in Will’s throat, groaning at the vibrations as Will starts to gag violently, spluttering and beseeching Nigel with his eyes to let him breathe. Nigel holds Will firmly against his crotch for several seconds, counts to ten in his head and then releases him for a handful of seconds just to listen to him spit and choke on air before sliding back home. 

The sound of his cock hammering into his nephew’s throat is obscene, loud and echoing in the empty apartment. It’s slick with spit and there is little finesse, but it’s possibly the best blow job he’s ever had. 

Will’s eyes close for just a second, but Nigel can’t have that, fitting his palm against Will’s throat and watching his eyes snap back open as Nigel squeezes. He can feel the impression of his cock against his fingers where it’s lodged in Will’s throat, and he groans his pleasure, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming in again. 

They’ve never been this rough with the boy, never pushed his limits like this, and something in Nigel preens and growls at the knowledge that Will has let him have this first. He’s allowed Nigel to see him at his most depraved, his most submissive and insecure, and there is a beauty in that. 

“Being so good for me, gorgeous. Almost done, don’t worry. You want your uncle’s come? Want me to fill that pretty mouth until you’re forced to swallow my load?”

Will lets out a soft whine around choking on Nigel’s dick, gazing up at him with wet, pleading eyes. He can see how uncomfortable his boy is, how foreign being used this way is, but even still, Will doesn’t attempt to shy away or stop the invasion. He sits still for his uncle unless Nigel specifically instructs him otherwise, pliant to Nigel’s ministrations. Nigel only increases his pace, chasing the edge of release as he hurtles closer and closer to the precipice.

He threads a hand into Will’s soft, messy curls and twists, holding his boy’s head still, and it’s to the wet whimper falling from Will’s clogged throat that Nigel orgasms. Pleasure zips through him as his cock starts to pulse, and as much as Nigel would love to forever stay buried in the wet warmth of his boy’s mouth, he wants to leave one more mark upon the boy even more, even if this one is more temporary than his bruises.

He spills over Will’s tongue for a breath before quickly pulling out completely. “Don’t you swallow yet,” Nigel warns him, voice rough and breathless.  _ “Fuck, _ yeah, gonna fucking cover you,” he groans, jerking his twitching cock through his orgasm to milk as much release as he can, covering Will’s cheek, chin and plump little lips in pearlescent ropes.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, rubbing his cockhead through the mess on Will’s face slowly, spreading his fluid around to better mingle with his nephew’s tears. “Such a good boy for me. Open up, baby.”

Will allows him in once more, and Nigel releases a shaky breath at the sensation of his softening, oversensitive cock sliding through the mess he left on Will’s pink tongue. “I should keep you just like this, make you warm my cock until I’m ready to go again. I’m not as young as I once was. Could take awhile. Would you stay on your knees for me until I needed you again, darling?”

Will’s eyes had fluttered shut as Nigel came across his face, the only protection for him, and now they flutter open again, cautiously, as though not quite sure it’s safe to do so. He doesn’t move a muscle beyond that, but Nigel can see the absolute adoration and devotion in his bright blue eyes and knows the answer is  _ yes. _

“Of course you fucking would,” he agrees with a huff. “Little slut.”

Will gazes up at his uncle and gives him a slow blink.

_ “My _ little slut,” Nigel amends softly, and the edges of Will’s lips twitch into an aborted smile where they wrap around Nigel’s cock.

The vixen goes so far as to  _ suck  _ on Nigel’s overly sensitive flesh, pulling a gasp from his throat and prompting him to fist his fingers in Will’s hair and yank him off his soft dick before it begins to stir again. 

“That’s enough, gorgeous. Your uncle isn’t as young as he once was, can’t get it up for you again so fast.” 

“Sure you can.” Will winks at him, but doesn’t press for more, simply remains on his knees unmoving and perfect for Nigel. 

Nigel grunts a laugh, shaking his head incredulously at his nephew’s impertinence. But he knows Will speaks the truth, Nigel’s gotten it up again plenty of times for his sweet boy. “Come on, sweet thing. Let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

The shower is quick and perfunctory, Nigel fighting every instinct within him to let his touch linger too long on Will’s bruised flesh, to let his fingertips run along his hips and thighs. He wants to watch Will come, but he won't let him. Not tonight at least. Will came to him with a simple request to be used and abused, and it would hardly be a full service treatment if he helped him get his own relief.

They move to the bed soon after, Will sprawling out on one side while Nigel goes through his routine of checking his bedside for his gun, his smokes, and his keys. The three things he needs in case of a quick emergency. It’s a habit deeply embedded from a lifetime of chaotic living, and it’s even followed him here to his fairly lavish and soft life in Baltimore.

Nigel shifts closer to his boy once he settles in beside him, looping an arm across his low back to grasp him gently. “How do you feel, darling?”

Will gives a soft huff. “Like I won’t be sitting comfortably for days, let alone laying on my back.” A brief pause, and then, “Amazing. It’s exactly what I wanted. What I  _ needed. _ Thank you.”

Nigel’s chest swells with Will’s soft, grateful voice, his throat thick with emotion that feels coarse as sand when he tries to speak. “There’s nothing you could want that I wouldn’t fight to give you, darling,” Nigel informs him, hand reaching up unbidden to twist gently through his boy’s soft, damp curls. “I’m at your absolute mercy, have been since I met you. I’ll be gentle, rough, whatever you need.”

There’s a distinct pause before Will responds, and Nigel has an instinctive feeling that he’s just said something that’s going to come back to bite him in the ass - and sooner rather than later. Eventually, Will pulls his heavy head from the pillows, blinking sleepily at Nigel, lips pulled into a soft smile that melts even  _ his _ bastard of a heart.

“Good. Cuz there’s something else I wanted.  _ Move in.” _

Nigel quirks an eyebrow, thoroughly surprised and even more confused. “To your dorm room?”

“To my  _ dad’s house,” _ Will corrects with an amused chide. “He’s lonely without me there, and it’s not exactly like you’re living in the lap of luxury here,” Will points out.

“Fuck you,” Nigel grumbles, even though his sweet nephew is the furthest thing from wrong.

“I think it would be nice for you two to be together more. And I’d love to have you both home when I come to visit, or come home for the summer.”

Nigel heaves a sigh, knows already that he’s going to do it, regardless of what his fuckwit of a brother has to say about it, if anything. Because  _ Will _ asked him to. And Nigel would do  _ anything _ for Will.

Even move into the house of a prissy, uptight, serial-killing cannibal.

He has, he supposes, lived with worse. After all, he  _ was _ married once upon a time.

“This would make you happy?”

“Both of us,” Will corrects, his lazy smile growing as he begins to scent his victory. “All  _ three _ of us. Incredibly happy.”

He could keep the apartment, he supposes, to conduct his business. Maybe even give him a place to escape to when Hannibal inevitably pisses him off. “Why do I have a feeling your daddy doesn’t yet know how happy this idea would make him?”

“He’ll be happy,” Will assures him, and, kid or not, Nigel can’t help but believe him.

“We all will,” he agrees, leaning in to capture plump, red lips once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/FqAf3uT) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚 💜 BellaRai


	5. Wrapped up in Ribbons and Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Looks like I got back just in fucking time, eh?” Nigel’s voice shatters the relative quiet peacefulness that’s gathered in the bathroom, Will perking up and flashing his uncle a toothy grin._
> 
> _“Uncle Nigel, you’ve missed several body parts being revealed already.” He teases, wiggling his toes in Nigel’s direction tauntingly. Nigel crosses the space quickly, snatching up Will’s foot and squeezing the delicate bones nearly brutally in his touch, smirking when Will hisses slightly at the feeling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to MORE debauchery between our lovely trio!

Will trusts his father.  _ Implicitly. _ The man has never once given him a reason not to, always treated him with loving tenderness and worship even  _ before _ their relationship... _ evolved. _

Even so, he can’t help the way his stomach clenches, mostly with arousal, but also with the undeniable undertones of anxiety; his breath held in his stinging chest as the cool edge of his father’s blade works its way up the column of his throat in one smooth, skillful stroke. The fingers twisted into the curls at the back of his skull give a light, soothing scratch to his scalp, holding and guiding him gently in equal measures. 

“Relax, my love,” Hannibal urges softly between one swipe of his straight razor and the next. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, darling.”

“I trust you, daddy,” Will insists softly, pushing the words out on an exhale to stymie any movement of his mouth and throat as his father continues his work. In truth, it simply feels unusual to have even the small amount of scruff he’s managed to cultivate on his cheeks and throat stripped away, feels almost bare and exposed, though he knows his dad and his uncle have already seen every facet of Will - those he shows to the world and those buried away for only his monsters to view and revel in.

“There,” Hannibal murmurs with one final stroke to the side of his throat, removing the razor and encompassing Will’s face in a warm, wet towel before he can even process the work as complete.

He gives a soft sigh into the moist heat that surrounds him, brings his hands up to hold the towel against his cheeks to relieve his father of the task. When the steam ebbs, the dampness of the towel growing chilled and no longer soothing, Will removes it, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjust to light once more only to find his father’s face hovering in front of his own, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips and adoration warm in his gaze.

“There’s my baby boy,” Hannibal all but purrs, and the sound has heat of an entirely  _ different _ sort swimming in Will’s belly, pooling low between his legs as his cock gives a pitiful twitch.

He attempts to quell his arousal with a steady breath, knowing his own satisfaction is still on the horizon, unreachable for the time being. After all, they’ve only just started the process of what Hannibal has lovingly and teasingly dubbed Will’s  _ makeover, _ and his uncle has yet to arrive.

And if there’s one thing Will knows about Nigel, it’s that the gruff man is more likely to see him quaking and crying before he’ll allow Will the comfort of his own release. His father is usually more sympathetic, always jumping at the opportunity to have his only son writhing with pleasure beneath him; delighting in the sounds, smells and tastes of Will’s happiness. But the loving man that raised him becomes a different creature when his twin brother is near; not violent - never that - but hardened in a way, cruel and sadistic.

When the three of them are together, Will is completely lost to the whims of the two older men, helpless to their desires and machinations, though no less worshipped for them. He enjoys the soft, loving caresses of his father and the dichotomy of his uncle’s more violent nature when they spend time alone with each other.

But he  _ loves _ being utterly beholden to the two of them together. Teased and tortured and pleasured so thoroughly he can scarcely  _ breathe. _

“Are you ready for the next part, beloved?” His daddy is always so careful with him when they try something new, even something as seemingly innocuous as  _ shaving.  _ Will nods, wrapping his fingers around Hannibal’s wrist where his father’s palm rests against his now smooth cheek. 

“Yes, daddy. Make me all pretty,” Will winks, shifting in the seat and rising so he can move to the tub of lightly scented water already drawn for him. It’s the perfect temperature, warm without being stingingly hot, and Will sinks into it easily, happy for the relaxation after a long semester apart from his favorite people. 

“Such a good boy. You’re already pretty, I’m just preparing you so we can all enjoy your new gifts even more.” Hannibal pulls a little stool over to the edge of the tub, all of his tools already lined up along the edge. He’s still using a straight razor for this part, and Will raises his left leg out of the water to drape over the tub, his father’s eyes tracking the movement like a predator. 

They’d already done the  _ dirty work _ of cleaning Will out earlier, wanting to fully enjoy the experience of dressing him up like a doll and worshipping his entire body. He dislikes the fullness when they rinse out his insides with tubes and water, the ache, but his father loves seeing him desperate and full, loves petting over his swollen lower abdomen and whispering utter filth into Will’s red-tinged ears. 

“Stay with me, dear boy. I want you  _ here  _ for this.” Hannibal drags a hand down Will’s leg, spreading his fancy Parisian shaving cream along the entire surface. His father works as efficiently on his leg as he had with Will’s face, dragging his blade in long lines down Will’s flesh, leaving soft, smooth skin in its wake. Even though Hannibal asked him to stay present Will finds himself helpless but to drift a bit at the soothing sensations, methodical and almost entrancing. 

When Will finally floats back into himself Hannibal has moved on to Will’s other leg, having pulled it up from the water and moved it alongside his left where it still remains dripping steadily over the side. “It tickles.” Will observes with a barely suppressed giggle when Hannibal slides the blade along the crease between Will’s thigh and torso, Will’s muscles spasming slightly beneath the skin in reaction. 

Hannibal hums in response, carefully pulling the straight razor along the curve of Will’s knee and then down around his calf, stopping at his ankle. He cleans the razor on a towel laid across his bare lap, his father also wearing nothing while he works to avoid ruining his suits. 

Will walks his fingers across the smooth skin of his shaven leg, enjoying the sensation. It’s soft, the shaving cream moisturizing, aiding in the easy glide. Hannibal finishes his leg and puts the razor aside for a moment, leaning low to kiss Will’s ankle. 

There isn’t a single bead of blood on Will’s freshly shaven skin, though he’s not surprised in the least with how steady his father’s hands are and how much of an ingrained habit this is, natural as breathing for Hannibal. “You don’t have any hair on your chest to speak of, but I’d like to shave your groin and everything else below if you will allow.” It’s more of a statement than any real question, the both of them knowing Will  _ always  _ allows his father anything. 

“Looks like I got back just in fucking time, eh?” Nigel’s voice shatters the relative quiet peacefulness that’s gathered in the bathroom, Will perking up and flashing his uncle a toothy grin. 

“Uncle Nigel, you’ve missed several body parts being revealed already.” He teases, wiggling his toes in Nigel’s direction tauntingly. Nigel crosses the space quickly, snatching up Will’s foot and squeezing the delicate bones nearly brutally in his touch, smirking when Will  _ hisses  _ slightly at the feeling. 

“You’ll mind that pretty little mouth of yours, gorgeous, or I’m liable to find better uses for it.” 

“Nigel.” Hannibal’s voice is a low warning, not aggressive but more acknowledgement and a reminder of their situation than anything else. “I was going to start on his lower regions if you’d like to watch.” 

Nigel releases Will’s foot with a kiss to the top of it, pulling a giggle from Will at the sensation. He leans down to capture Hannibal’s mouth as well, the two brothers growing more affectionate with one another over the time they’ve all spent together, and seemingly closer still in Will’s absence. It makes him ache with longing, a reminder of how much they all miss one another when he’s at school. 

Nigel’s gaze is hungry when he pulls away from Hannibal, pinning Will in place and causing arousal to surge through his veins. “Gonna have the prettiest cock and balls, aren’t you baby? And that sweet little ass will be smooth as sin.” 

Will bites his lip, shivering slightly as Hannibal drains most of the water from the tub, exposing Will’s lower half to the air. There’s no hesitation as his father picks up his blade again, smooths more cream along Will’s lower abdomen, coating his cock and his balls, even using the pad of one finger to trail some along his taint. 

Hannibal makes quick work of the front, though he’s even more careful here than he had been with Will’s legs or face, making shorter, slower strokes. Will jerks when his father starts working on his balls, and Hannibal stops the motion immediately. “Will, be still. Or do I need your uncle to hold you down?” 

Will nods mutely, and it seems his father knows exactly what he needs. “Nigel, come hold Will’s legs down and help him keep still like a good boy.” Will groans, growing more and more aroused as Nigel wraps his broad, strong palms around his legs and pins them to the tub. He loves being manhandled, loves being held down by them and moved however they want him. He knows he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, Nigel far too strong for him to displace the other man and it makes his stomach clench with his need. 

His balls are finished swiftly once Nigel is assisting, and then it’s time for Will to turn over. “Out of the tub, I should think. Let’s get you on your hands and knees, sweet boy. I’ll put down a towel.” Hannibal steps away long enough to do just that, and Will climbs out of the tub with his uncle’s help. 

“You’ll get your clothes all wet, uncle Nigel.” Will teases, leaning up on his tiptoes to nip at Nigel’s lips, giving him a welcoming kiss. 

“Maybe I just like how you feel against me with your smooth, wet little body, baby. Love it when you get me all messy with how desperate you are. Greedy little slut.” The words sound like praise and Will preens, rubbing himself against Nigel like an overgrown house cat. 

“Come, beloved. Let’s finish you up so your uncle can show us your new gifts.” Hannibal is on the stool again, this time sat beside a fluffy white towel laid across the tile floor. Will settles on his hands and knees, and Nigel is immediately on him, spreading his cheeks wide for Hannibal to more easily access his rim. 

“You’re already nearly as smooth as a girl back here, darling.” Nigel taunts, dragging his thumb across Will’s hole just to make him moan before his palms are spreading him open again, totally professional as Hannibal glides the razor in short strokes across his pinkened flesh. 

“Perfect, Will. You’re exceptional.” His father leans down to kiss at the hollow of Will’s lower back before moving back to put away all of his tools. 

Nigel, however, turns filthy immediately, falling to his knees behind Will and spitting directly onto his now hairless hole, massaging the spit into his rim and dipping his thumb into Will’s body, stretching him out around the tip.

Will mewls and arches back into the touch, head hanging heavily between his shoulders as he rocks his body toward its source of stimulation. His uncle’s grin has teeth; he can hear it in the low, pleased purr of Nigel’s voice.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t we? No worries, gorgeous. Your daddy and I will take good care of you tonight. Leave you breathless and aching.” A sharp slap to the swell of his ass punctuates his uncle’s dark promises, and Will chokes on a groan as he drops his upper body, tilts his ass up higher still, silently entreating for another strike.

He knows one won’t come, much to his disappointment; his father is still wildly protective of him, treating him with tender care in all that he does for Will. While over time he’s grown more relaxed with his twin’s cruel form of love, he’s unlikely to turn a blind eye to Nigel’s harsh hand more than once.

As though they’re thinking the same thing, Nigel’s hand falls to Will’s flesh once more, soothing away the stinging as he pets over Will’s warm flesh with one hand and sinking his thumb deeper into Will with the other. It’s not long at all before his mouth joins the action, his lips ghosting kisses and teeth snagging gentle nips to Will’s flesh until his tongue reaches Will’s hole and he lathes indulgently at the rim wrapped tight around his digit.

“Love how you start out so tight for us,” Nigel murmurs against his flesh before trailing another teasing lick to Will’s hole. “Clenching so fiercely around me for now, pulling me deeper. You’ll be gaping for us by the end of the night.”

_ “Yes,” _ Will gasps, rocking back more insistently into Nigel’s touch, though his uncle, frustratingly enough, doesn’t deign to sink any further or gift Will with his mouth any more than a smirk pressed into the supple globe of his ass. “Please,  _ more, _ Uncle Nigel -”

He whimpers when a gentle hand finds his cheek and guides his face upward, trembles at the dark arousal that burns in his father’s eyes. “Begging already, Will?” Hannibal’s tone is almost passive, unimpressed, as though he expected his son to hold out for much longer. As though Will’s disappointed him.

“Feels good,” Will whines, the words strangled even further as Nigel decides in that moment to slide his thumb in as far as he can manage, tongue entering play once more.

“Far too good,” Hannibal agrees, almost sympathetically. And then, much more sternly, “Enough, Nigel. Now’s not the time to tease. Our boy still needs to be dressed.”

Nigel makes a rumbling sound Will registers as irritated resentment as he complies with Hannibal’s unspoken demand and pulls out of and away from Will slowly. His hands don’t leave him, however, stroking greedily along the swell of his ass, slipping over slim hips and around to his too-flat stomach, gliding up ribs too-well pronounced. He hasn’t been as well fed by his predators while he’s been away and it shows. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’  _ love _ what I bought,” Nigel murmurs as his hands continue to explore open flesh, and for a moment Will isn’t even certain who he’s speaking to, until he adds, “You’re all about aesthetics, after all. What is it you say about your fancy fucking dishes?  _ First we feast with our eyes. _ And our boy is going to look  _ tasty.” _

“I don’t hear you complaining about those  _ fancy  _ dishes when they’re slipping past your greedy lips, dear brother.” Hannibal sniffs, and Nigel laughs. 

“Don’t get your panties all in a twist, Han. That’s for Will to do.” Will can feel the heat of their combined gazes on his back like a physical brand, his stomach clenching and roiling with heat. 

“Come, sweet boy. Let’s go see what your uncle has brought for you.” Hannibal offers a hand to Will and Will takes it gratefully, stumbling a little when his legs refuse to support his weight, trembling like a newborn fawn. He’s reeling already, excitement and nervousness warring in his mind and clogging up his throat. 

The move to the bedroom is both quick and painfully slow, Will guided to the bed to sit and await his lovers’ direction. Hannibal and Nigel stand together, peering into the bag Nigel brought and murmuring to one another softly enough that Will would strain to understand them even if they  _ weren’t _ speaking in rapid fire Lithuanian. 

After what feels like an eternity, both of his monsters turn to him at the same time, twin gazes gleaming in mischief and dark with desire. He’s nude and for the first time he feels it, flayed open and exposed for them to view at their leisure. Will whines, unable to stop the sound from tumbling from his throat, and Nigel is the one who gets to him first, a cruel hand in his curls tightening and yanking him back roughly, exposing the pale column of his throat to bruising bites. 

Nigel is only permitted to mark him up for a few seconds before Hannibal is there, shuffling his brother aside and pressing a palm flat against Will’s chest, guiding him until Will is flat against the dark silk bed sheets. “Black is such a fetching color on you, darling. I think you’re going to like your present.” Hannibal purrs, pulling the first piece from the bag. 

It’s a pair of panties, black lace in the front and the back is assless, tied at the top with a black satin bow that settles just beneath the hollow of Will’s lower back. He’s breathless already at the implication, at the  _ easy access  _ they’ll both have to him, even if he were to keep the panties on while they played. He can almost feel the sensation of their greedy, seeking hands as they rub across his hard cock through the lace, pleasure and pain sizzling up his spine. 

He doesn’t need to imagine it for long, Nigel doing exactly that while Hannibal procures the next part of the ensemble. Nigel’s palms are calloused where his brother’s are smoother, and Will can feel the lace pick a bit on Nigel’s hands. His uncle doesn’t tarry long, moving out of the way for Hannibal to slot between Will’s open thighs, pulling first one and then a second stocking up each one. 

They’re fishnet and have hooks at the top to secure to his panties with a set of suspenders in the same soft silky material as the bow on his panties. Nigel is the one to snap those into place, but not before Hannibal has slipped a garter in the same lace pattern as his panties up Will’s right thigh. 

Hannibal and Nigel both work to wrap the matching corset around his waist, flipping him onto his stomach and securing the hooks in the back with steady hands and fingers as Will trembles beneath them. He feels  _ worshipped,  _ and beautiful, and he’s nearly certain he’ll see a new sketch from his father in the coming days of him sprawled across their sheets like some sort of Botticelli trollop.

“Up, gorgeous,” Nigel instructs gruffly as he hauls Will’s body from prone on the bed to standing on quivering legs so quickly it leaves him momentarily dizzy. “Let us take a good look at you.”

Will shuffles his weight from foot to foot, cheeks burning and feeling laughably self-conscious of the scrutiny. After all, haven’t the two of them seen Will stripped bare of both clothing and humility time and again? Seen him debauched but never debased, revelling in the surrender of restraint as they systematically take him apart - as he  _ lets _ them?

Still somehow he feels ridiculous in the get-up they’ve clad him in, regardless of praise both voiced and unspoken bestowed upon him. His cock already strains uncomfortably against the scratchy lace of his panties, the sensation of fabric clinging to his freshly bared legs foreign and overwhelming.

There are several moments of silence, stretching out long enough that Will starts to squirm beneath the heat of their gaze he can feel weighing heavily on his spine. He chews his lip nervously even as his brows pull into a scowl. “Sorry, were you waiting for another angle?” He turns his back to them, showcasing his bow, his nearly bare ass, and pops his hip out sassily as he impatiently awaits for them to look their fill. “Are you just going to stare all night, gentlemen, or do you plan to  _ do  _ something?” 

There’s a sharp  _ snap  _ of flesh against flesh and he hisses through his teeth at the sensation, looking over his shoulder. He’s surprised to see his father is the one who hit him, Nigel actually several feet away pulling something else from the lingerie bag. Hannibal rarely hits Will, but there’s a dangerous gleam in his eyes tonight and Will finds himself nearly breathless with the desire to  _ push,  _ to test limits. 

“Daddy -” Will starts, but Hannibal tugs him back to the bed forcefully and is on top of him nearly instantly, a broad palm wrapped around Will’s mouth to stop him from speaking. 

“Quiet, darling boy. We have one more surprise for you. Something I know you’ve been thinking about for some time now.” 

Will’s mind is reeling, filtering through the dozens of things he’s been intrigued by or wanted to try ever since they started doing  _ this.  _

He’s still confused when Nigel pulls out Hannibal’s favorite brand of lube from the bottom of the lingerie bag, a large glass jar Will recognizes instantly. 

Hannibal’s weight moves off Will, but Will stays perfectly still, recognizing a test when he’s given one. “Be a good boy.” Hannibal reminds him again, taking the jar from Nigel and settling beside Will’s splayed open legs, teasing his fingertips along his inner thigh from behind.

Will’s legs spread wider naturally, and he shudders when Nigel’s palm joins his father’s, exploring the soft, smooth flesh of Will’s legs and ass. 

Nigel moves him suddenly, effortlessly, onto his back, and without warning grabs one of his nipples between two harsh fingers and  _ pinches  _ roughly, pulling a hiss from behind Will’s teeth even as he arches up into the touch. 

“Your father has made me promise not to be  _ too  _ rough tonight, but I think you’ll take whatever we give and be thankful for it, like the good little slut you are. We both know you’d like it just fine if I  _ was  _ rough, know you like it to hurt just a little.” Nigel winks, and the look he flashes Will is a dangerous one. Will is reminded, suddenly, his uncle is just as deadly as his father. Nigel’s harsh, broad palms have killed people, his whip-sharp brain is made from the same stuff as Hannibal’s and Will’s. 

People often make the mistake of assuming his uncle is stupid because he’s  _ uncouth,  _ not as cultured or as civilized as his equally monstrous but person-suit wearing twin. They usually only make that mistake once in this life. 

Even though his mouth is clear now he still finds himself speechless, unable to express his excitement. He still doesn’t know exactly  _ what _ the two brothers have planned for him, but he can feel his anticipation building, arousal pooling at the base of his spine. Nigel is wild and unencumbered in his sessions with Will, unflinching in his ability to leave Will reeling and bloody if it’s what he wants. 

Hannibal, in contrast, is always so careful and protective of his only son, surprisingly gentle with Will for a merciless, cannibalistic serial killer. It had been a slow process to convince Hannibal of Will’s darker desires, to show him Will wouldn’t break, only  _ bend  _ under his hand. 

Will and Hannibal still won’t do some of the heavier things together that Will and Nigel often found themselves doing, but Will likes it that way. The dichotomy of the brothers is something that leaves him reeling with desperation and arousal. He loves coming to his father’s bed with Nigel’s fingerprint shaped bruises all over his body, his bite marks on his thighs. Hannibal always feels compelled to cover them in marks of his own, even if those marks are often only in the form of lingering kisses and a slow, gentle worship of Will’s marred body. 

Will clears his throat and  _ whines  _ when Nigel drags the weight of his palm along Will’s lace-covered cock, his entire body lighting up like an electric spark. “Nigel -” he starts, but is interrupted yet again by his father, this time with Hannibal’s lips moulding to his own to silence him. 

“Hush, my love. Let us take care of you.” Hannibal resumes his casually possessive touching and exploration of each curve of Will’s body, even as Nigel slaps Will’s red, abused nipple and then starts working on the other one until they’re both puffy and sore. Will’s cock is aching, leaking steadily onto his lower abdomen at the onslaught.

He blinks and when his eyes open again there are fingers trailing between his thighs, petting over his clean-shaven hole. He can’t discern at first which touch belongs to who, both Nigel and his father moving together. Once he settles a bit he can feel them, could tell their touch in the dark with his eyes closed, and he nearly purrs at the sensation. 

Nigel is the first to breach him, panties tugged carelessly aside and his finger still dry when it pushes into Will’s all too willing body, his rim parting for him easy as breathing. “Just like a dime store whore, sweetheart. You’ll open up for anybody, won’t you?” Nigel taunts him again, and Will  _ keens.  _ He loves when his uncle is a little mean to him, and Nigel was right when he accused Will of enjoying when it hurts. 

The touch isn’t painful at first, a mostly ignorable ache where his dry insides try to wrap around the digit and pull him deeper. Nigel laughs as Will clenches down, and he’s adding another finger between one breath and the next. 

Will gasps as his rim parts, this intrusion slightly more painful, a burning sensation as his muscles try to accommodate. “Nigel.” Hannibal warns sharply, and Nigel chuckles again and pulls his fingers out, wiping them absently on Will’s knee. 

“Alright, alright, brother. We’ll do it your way.” There’s lube suddenly, cold and thick where Nigel dumps a hefty portion between Will’s legs. He turns Will back over so he’s on his stomach, his cock pressed desperately between his abdomen and the mattress, unable to get the right kind of friction. He knows it’s purposeful, wonders if they’ll let him come as often as he likes tonight, or if they’ll make him wait, make him  _ beg  _ for it. 

The next touch is his father’s; smooth, artists fingers smoothing the lube all over Will’s rim and slipping just slightly inside, a teasing press of his middle finger before he’s pulling away. He’s only gone for a few seconds before he comes back with even  _ more  _ lube; Will feels drenched in it already. Hannibal’s entire middle finger slides effortlessly into Will’s body, and Will lets out a little sigh of pleasure at the welcome stretch. 

Nigel joins his brother soon enough, slipping his pointer finger in alongside Hannibal’s finger, and each of them  _ pull  _ just slightly, stretching Will’s rim in opposite directions. He murmurs into the sheets, bringing his arms up to pillow his head so he can turn to look at his father where he sits beside him. 

“Daddy -” Will starts, but Hannibal shushes him immediately. 

“Be patient, dear Will. We promise you’ll enjoy our surprise.” Hannibal’s smile is full of teeth, and Will’s stomach clenches and pleasure pools in his lower spine at the possible implications. 

Soon, their fingers are gliding easily into him, and Hannibal adds another - his ring finger, Will is nearly certain based on how the webbing feels against his ass - and there is even more lube being added to where their fingers disappear inside him. 

He floats, blissful and  _ full,  _ and nearly aching with how badly he wants a cock in him, wants one of his monsters to cover him completely, pin him down with their weight; but he’s patient, knows it’ll be well worth the wait in the end. It always is. 

And then the discussion begins, low words passed between brothers above Will's prone form. He's long since grown used to this particular game, his father and uncle delighting in their private conversation so Will remains unaware of what awaits him on the horizon.

In the past, Will was forced to content himself with existing in ignorance of his monsters' plans. They don't know, of course, that Will has been brushing up on his Lithuanian in his spare time at school. He's still woefully lost to the conversation at large, but he struggles to concentrate on the pieces he  _ can  _ decipher.

Nigel asks Hannibal something akin to who gets to do something, to which Hannibal suggests it be Nigel. He hears the word  _ inside  _ and lets out an entreating whine, arching his hips up into their touch.

"You understand us, gorgeous?" Nigel's shift back to English is almost disorienting, his words tinged with surprise as his fingers sink deeper into him and rub teasingly just shy of his prostate. 

"No," Hannibal disagrees before Will can answer. "Not entirely, at least. What word did you catch, darling boy?"

_ "Inside,"  _ Will whines in response, in a plea.  _ "Please,  _ Uncle Nigel. I need more."

"Alright, needy little slut. It's time you learned to be fucking careful what you wish for."

His daddy's fingers leave him then, extricated swiftly but with care, and before Will can even make a sound of protest, Nigel's are taking their place, three of his thick fingers spearing Will open while his pinky strokes teasingly at his rim.

Will gasps at the brush of Nigel’s pinky, his uncle putting pressure on his prostate from the outside and he lifts his hips up into the touch, swallows thickly on a scream when Nigel  _ does  _ press forward, his pinky slipping into Will with a loud squelch of the excessive lube dripping from his body.

He’s mildly aware of his daddy still sitting beside him, making soothing noises and murmuring to him in some indistinctive tongue; Lithuanian, French, Italian - Will couldn’t rightly say. All he can focus on is Hannibal’s hands petting through his hair, stroking gently down his spine, and the bulk of Nigel’s hand pressing carefully but insistently into him. Slipping in and sliding out with the help of copious amounts of lubricant.

Will’s mind, hazy as it is, recalls distinctly the word  _ ranka _ passed between them, a casual word equating in English to  _ hand, _ and Will can’t help but wonder if the two of them weren’t speaking more particularly of a  _ fist. _

Almost as though they  _ wanted _ Will to understand them as they spoke rapidly in the foreign tongue. Almost as though they  _ intended _ for him to.

As though his uncle is privy to his mental gymnastics, Nigel gives a low growl and slips his hand further inside him, his thumb tucked into the shell his curved fingers create and pressing forward despite the trembling of Will’s body and the pitiful, weak sounds that fall from his throat even as he arches into the touch.

“Oh, God -  _ Nigel -” _

“Just relax, my love,” his daddy soothes him without hesitation, leaning closer to croon in Will’s ear even as he increases the frequency of his petting. “Breathe, darling. You’re so good for us. So pliable and trusting”

“I know I can trust you, daddy,” Will murmurs into the pillow beneath his head. “Trust you both. I love you; want you to be happy.”

“You make us so fucking happy, sweet thing,” Nigel rumbles in response without hesitation; the full feeling of his fist slipping into Will in earnest punctuates the statement, and Will is caught for several seconds on a breathless, hopeless gasp for air as his body furiously attempts to process the experience of being so thoroughly split open.

Will whines and arches his body further still into the grasp that teases it, moaning at the sensation of his uncle’s fist pulling back and then pumping into him slowly. Nigel has always been one who preferred using his  _ hands _ whenever possible, relishing in the feeling of skin splitting beneath his brutality. His hands are calloused and well-abused because of this, his knuckles rough as they push along the soft, fragile insides of Will, brush teasingly against his prostate.

Will’s cock pulses his release and he cries out in surprise, burying his face into the pillow beneath him once more as he shudders and shakes around his uncle’s fist, his orgasm as unexpected as it is unstoppable.

His ears are still ringing as he spasms with the aftershocks of his pleasure, but Nigel’s gruff voice breaks through the haze, his words sharp with the edge of a moan. “Fucking beautiful. I’ll never forget that sight, long as I fuckin’ live.”

“He is a wonder to behold,” Hannibal agrees. “And while I’m sure you feel quite at home buried inside our boy, we  _ do _ still have a few plans on the docket.”

Will can’t stop the whine that bubbles up from his throat at the statement, his entire body warm and lax and mind hazy with pleasure; he can’t for the life of him consider how his monsters might take this night further  _ still. _

But whatever they had planned must have been enticing enough, because Nigel retreats with minimal grumbling, slowly pulling his fist from Will and alternating instead to four and then three fingers; allowing him to adjust from being stretched so wide while simultaneously keeping him open.

One of them is still going to fuck him, Will surmises. Or both; the brothers certainly have no qualms about sharing him, more than happy for one to spill inside him while the next slips in seamlessly, keeping him full and open and  _ dripping. _

“Get on the bed,” Nigel instructs, almost breathless in his command, and Will can tell for certain now how affected his uncle is with the proceedings, because he can’t be bothered to switch languages in an attempt to draw out the subterfuge, keep Will in the dark for longer. “He can ride you, I’ll take behind.”

The words still hold little meaning for Will, though the notion of sliding down onto his daddy’s cock is easy to grasp and he accepts it eagerly, barely waiting for Nigel’s fingers to draw out of him completely before he’s clambering across the bed to straddle where his daddy sits with his back against the headboard.

“Hello, sweet boy,” Hannibal greets him fondly, and Will can’t resist the urge to lean forward and press a short, sweet kiss to his daddy’s lips.

He can feel Nigel shifting behind him even as he settles himself over his father’s lap, taking hold of Hannibal’s cock, thick and leaking and  _ beautiful _ and holding it steady while he guides himself over it. A pair of strong, rough hands grasp his hips before he can lower himself, and a breath later Nigel is pressed against him, the pelt of coarse hair on his chest brushing against Will’s back as his lips meet Will’s ear, his breath spilling hot and words both amused and stern.

“Not so fast, thirsty thing,” Nigel murmurs, lips brushing the shell of Will’s ear as his fingers clench around Will’s hips, his thumbs stroking against his skin gently. “Such a slut, aren’t you? So ready to slide down onto daddy’s cock. You just love being stretched full, don’t you?”

_ “Yes,”  _ Will moans, dropping his head back to Nigel’s shoulder as his uncle’s mouth leaves his ear to lip wetly at the column of Will’s neck.

“You need so much attention,” Nigel grumbles as he mouths at Will’s pulse point before giving it a harsh suck and then swiftly moving down to the meat of his shoulder to provide a stinging nip. “More for even the two of us to handle in tandem, sometimes. Oh, we’ve  _ tried _ , darling. Certainly we have. Fucking both your holes at once, fucking you while sucking you off. You just want more and more, though.”

“We’ve devised a solution,” Hannibal cuts in suddenly, and Will blinks at the announcement and pulls his head up to look at his daddy. “One which, we are certain, will please all _ three _ of us.”

His hands join Nigel’s, then, wrapping delicately around his hips and guiding him down onto his cock slowly. Will moans as his daddy pushes into him, the sound immediately trailing into a whine as they halt his progress just after Will has slipped over his cockhead.

He doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before Nigel’s cock is pushing against Will’s lax rim, demanding entrance alongside his daddy’s. He clenches, briefly, but then Hannibal’s fingers are tracing down his spine - so soft and careful - and Will relaxes between them, safe and so held. 

“Uncle Nigel,” Will keens, arching and trying his best to keep his muscles from tensing. When Hannibal and Nigel push forward it’s  _ at the same time,  _ and Will feels his rim burning at the stretch, the intrusion even more than Nigel’s fist had been. 

“Fuck, he’s tight,” Nigel grunts, thrusting a little harder into Will than any of them are prepared for, all three of them releasing a rumbling groan at the same time. Will feels  _ so full,  _ spread wide open and still aching for more. 

“Please -” he starts, but Hannibal leans forward to capture his lips, quieting him. Hannibal’s hand wraps around Will’s nape and holds him in place firmly as he shifts his hips up, his cock sliding deeper and deeper until Will thinks he can’t even breathe with how full he is, his lungs shuddering and aching with the pressure, his diaphragm struggling to expand for a proper breath against the constraints of his corset. “So  _ full,” _ he sobs out, and then tenses as he attempts and fails to suck in sufficient air between his whines. “Can’t - can’t breathe -”

His uncle doesn’t hesitate to correct this problem, his rough hands seizing the material on either side of the corset’s delicate fastenings and rending it apart until the stitching gives with a loud tear and Will can fill his lungs in earnest once more. He keens at both the allowance of comfort and the display of Nigel’s strength and impatience, touched that he would destroy a brand new purchase simply because Will was becoming overwhelmed.

With the ability to breathe properly comes the ability to  _ relax, _ and all tension drops from Will’s body in a single moment, sending him sinking further down onto the cocks buried inside him.

“Perfect, darling boy. You’re so perfect for us.” Hannibal kisses him again and Will can feel Nigel’s lips against his shoulder, covering his back with sucking, bruising kisses as his hands greedily explore the newly bared flesh; hard against his daddy’s softness as he nearly always is. 

They fall into a rhythm, one of them always impossibly deep in him as the other is pulling out, almost all the way to his clenching rim. He can feel how tightly his body clings to them, and he feels impossibly whorish and wanton as he writhes and moans between them, held pinned by two larger, stronger men nearly three times his age. He can imagine so clearly what he must  _ look like,  _ his pupils blown, hair matted messily to his temples and neck, a light layer of sweat covering his entire body as he shivers and whimpers. 

He mutters under his breath and Nigel leans lower, whispering into his ear. “What was that, baby?” 

“He’s begging for more.” Hannibal laughs, and Will can feel Nigel’s mirroring chuckle where he’s laid out across Will’s back, his hips pistoning into him relentlessly. 

“Of course he is. Little slut, like I said. If we were in Bucharest and I were a more charitable man capable of sharing I’d pass you around to all the rich men I know, men depraved enough they’d pay top dollar for a perfect little whore like you.” 

The look in Hannibal’s eyes is dark, murderous, but also eerily  _ intrigued,  _ and Will feels his entire body shiver with arousal. He feels close again, one of many benefits of youth, and he’s certain he can come just like this, stuck between two predators who seem content to consume him whole. 

Hannibal smiles up at him and it’s both fond and also dangerous, full of teeth. “And then I’d slit each of their throats for deigning to touch something that never belonged to them, something they were unworthy of.” 

Nigel increases his pace behind Will, and Will is certain he's just as close as Will is. “You’re  _ ours,  _ gorgeous. We’d fucking  _ destroy  _ anyone who even suggested otherwise.” 

“We will, of course, always give you what you need,” his daddy assures him, eyes dark and voice breathless as his hips work in tandem with his brother’s. “If you want  _ more, _ you shall have it.”

It’s all the warning Will is given before Hannibal’s fingers curl against Will’s come-soaked panties and  _ tug, _ ripping a garment from his body for the second time that evening and simultaneously freeing his cock - engorged and aching and still sticky from his previous release.

His fingers wrap around Will’s shaft, deft and deceptively delicate - though Will is well-aware of the underlying strength in his grip - and it takes less than half a dozen languid strokes before Will is tensing up and spilling over once more, his forehead dropping to his daddy’s shoulder and hands clinging to his waist as he sobs in relief with his release.

Both men moan as Will tightens around them, guttural,  _ wounded _ sounds as their own cocks twitch and spill inside him. Hannibal’s hand keeps pumping Will’s cock, the sound filthy and  _ wet _ as he uses Will’s come to ease the way of the channel of his hand, until Will squirms and whines, and then he finally relents with a breathless chuckle and a soft kiss pressed to Will’s temple.

He couldn’t say how much time passes with the three of them tied together, all panting for breath and trembling from their orgasms, before they are finally spurred into movement. The two men slip from Will’s hole slowly, tenderly, and Will  _ whimpers _ at the sensation of both their loads slipping from him. Nigel, as it turns out, had been entirely accurate in his prediction of Will being  _ gaping _ for them by the end of the night; try even as Will might, he can’t seem to clench up enough to tighten his hole completely just yet.

He feels nearly delirious with his pleasure, his body lax and trusting as he allows his monsters to handle him however they see fit. At one point, he’s passed to Nigel’s care exclusively, and he doesn’t hesitate to burrow into his uncle’s embrace, nuzzling sleepily against Nigel’s chest as he cradles Will’s form and brushes feather-light kisses to his temple and cheek between words murmured in another tongue. Will is far too blissed out to even attempt to decipher the words, but knows without a doubt from the way they are whispered so tenderly against his skin that they are nothing but words of praise and declarations of love.

He almost feels guilty when Hannibal returns to them, because he’d barely realized his daddy had left at all - until his voice joins the soft murmurs and his strong arms slip around Will and hoist him from Nigel’s embrace effortlessly.

Awareness strikes him a little more fully when his body is enveloped in a soothing warmth, and Will manages to blink his eyes open long enough to come to understand that he’s been placed back in the bathtub, surrounded by comfort both from the lightly-scented bathwater and the solid and loving presence of both his father and uncle. He arches into every gentle touch, sleepily murmurs affirmations when his lovers question if he’s okay, if he’s comfortable, if he enjoyed himself.

He allows himself to float in the haze rather than pressuring his body into wakefulness, because he is fully confident that his monsters will care for and protect him as needed, and he is safe to do so. Eventually, the warmth of water is replaced with that of a soft, fluffy towel and then the smooth, silky sheets of his daddy’s bed. He either murmurs that he loves them both or only thinks it; either way, not long after he feels two sets of lips pressing to his forehead and temple. He goes completely lax into the bedding then, because he can’t hope to hold onto consciousness for another minute.

Two monsters curl around either side of him, bracketing him in solid warmth and love, and Will has never felt safer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed this fun romp between our favorite trio! 
> 
> If you wanna see more of our collaborative works you can follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We've also recently stumbled our way into a glorious 18+ [Discord](https://discord.gg/ZHRV2Tq) server originally created for the wonderful fic by ironlotus titled "A Consequence of Consumption." Go check that out and while you read, come join our cult - I mean perfectly respectable religion - of Hannibal Fans! (We even have our own channel where we share updates and spoilers and an interactive story where YOU get to decide what happens!) 
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚 💜 BellaRai

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚 💜 BellaRai


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